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DR*»LE  BARON«AND  HIS^fDAUGHTERS* 


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OLD  COLONY  STORIES 

BY  JANE  G.  AUSTIN 
^  f  f 

DR.  LE  BARON  AND  HIS  DAUGHTERS 


The  doctor  laid  down  the  attetiuated  hand  {page  20) 


DR.  LE  BARON  AND  HIS 
DAUGHTERS 

A  Story  of  the  Old  Colony 


BY 

JANE  G.  AUSTIN 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,  1890,  BY  JANE  G.  AUSTIN 
COPYRIGHT,  I918,  BY    LILIAN    I.  DE  SILVA 

ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


To 

SlU  tl)e  m\i  anti  )&tn 

OF  THE  NAME  OB  IXNEAOE  OF 

LeBARON, 

STORY  IS  DEDICATED  BY 

THEiB  LOYiNa  cousm, 

XHE  AUTHOB. 


A  WORD  OF  EXPLANATION. 


It  is  with  some  hesitation  that  I  offer  to  the  public 
this  story  of  Doctor  LeBaron,  including,  as  it  does,  so 
many  other  of  the  Old  Colony  chronicles ;  and  this,  for 
the  trite  old  reason  that  truth  is  stranger  than  fiction, 
and  therefore  more  incredible.  It  is  these  incredible 
truths,  however,  that  give  its  color  to  the  folk-lore  of 
any  given  epoch,  and  every  student  of  our  country's 
early  history  has  discovered  that  our  forefathers  lived 
quite  as  intensely,  if  not  as  scientifically,  as  we  do.  They 
had,  to  be  sure,  no  railway  accidents,  steamboat  explo- 
sions, or  tramp-wire  "  catastrophes,  but  they  supped 
full  of  horrors  in  the  way  of  witchcraft,  cursing,  demo- 
niacal possession,  murder,  lawless  love,  and  broken 
hearts  ;  in  fact,  found  in  their  own  surroundings  all  that 
vital  stimulus  which  we  are  apt  to  count  as  outgrowth  of 
our  advanced  civilization. 

The  story  of  Mother  Crewe's  curse,  with  its  results, 
is  substantially  true,  and  the  scene  depicted  in  chapter 
xliv.  is  literally  so. 

The  tragedy  embodied  in  chapter  xxiv.  is  also  mat- 
ter of  history,  and  its  veracity  must  apologize  for  its 
horror. 


A  WORD  OF  EXPLANATION. 


In  fact,  there  is  no  memorable  incident  related  in 
these  pages  that  is  not  matter  either  of  history  or  well- 
founded  tradition  in  the  Old  Colony,  and  though  our 
modern  taste  may  revolt  at  the  crude  coloring  and  real- 
istic limning  of  these  pictures  of  the  past,  we  must 
piously  preserve  them  as  the  shadows  of  those  who,  be- 
ing dead,  yet  speak,  and  that  in  the  language  of  their 
own  day  rather  than  ours. 

I  also  think  it  right  to  say  that  Quasho's  jokes,  al- 
though many  of  them  are  threadbare  now,  were  posi- 
tively original  with  him,  as  authenticated  by  the  family 
of  his  master. 

In  parting,  let  me  thank  those  friends  who  have  taken 
so  gratifying  an  interest  in  the  story  of  Standish  of 
Standish,  and  promise  them  some  farther  details  of  his 
life  in  connection  with  that  of  his  young  friend,  Betty 
Alden. 

JANE  Q.  AUSTIN. 

Boston,  November^  1890. 


CONTENTS. 


OHAPTBB  PAOf 

I.  "  Don't  be  in  a  Hurry,  Widow  "    .   .   .  .  1 

II.  Silver-Head  Tom   8 

III.  Bathsheba  Crewe's  Lover   18 

IV.  Judas   28 

V.  The  Doctor's  Den   37 

VI.  The  Lass  that  loved  a  Sailor    ....  57 
VII.  Mother  Crewe's  Curse  and  Elder  Faunce's 

Blessing  65 

VIII.  A  Life  for  a  Lemon  76 

IX.  Quasho's  Calabash  86 

X.  Mother  Crewe  at  Work;   and  how  to 

MAKE  Cheese-Cakes  93 

XI.  Mother  Crewe  is  pleased  101 

XII.  The  Course  of  True  Love  .111 

XITI.  A  Trap  123 

XIV.  Lucy  Hammatt's  Sufflet  128 

XV.  The  King  is  dead  !  Long  live  the  King  I  .  13S 

XVI.  Margot  147 

XVII.  "  Who  salted  This  Pudding  ?  "  155 

XVIII.  An  Acadian  Privateer  .    .......  165 

XIX.  Samson  in  Petticoats  172 

XX.  Philip  de  Montarnaud  183 

XXI.  Naughty  Little  Deborah  193 

XXII.  The  Indian  Summer  and  Oberry  ....  200 

XXIII.  The  Price  of  a  Woman     .......  209 

XXIV.  A  Scene  of  Horror  221 

XXV.  The  Letter  227 

XXVI.  Elizabeth  Robbins*  Letter  Home  ....  232 

XXVII.  SUCCATACH  244 

XXVIII.  The  Last  of  the  Rings   250 

XXIX.  Some  Old  Records  258 


viii  CONTENTS. 

XXX.  How  THE  House  of  LeBaron  rejoiced  .   .  269 

XXXI.  The  Dogs  of  War  let  Loose  283 

XXXn.     Hurrah  for  Dawson!  "  294 

XXXIII.  A  Worm  in  the  Rose-Heart  ......  301 

XXXIV.  What  the  Post-Rider  brought  311 

XXXV.  A  Private  Log  321 

XXXVI.  Parson  Hovey.  —  T.  for  't  is  and  t.  for 

't  is  n^t  337 

XXXVII.  A  Mystery  350 

XXXVIII.  A  WoFUL  Day.  — A  Piteous  Sight  ....  358 

XXXIX.  Deborah  fires  a  Salute  of  Honor    .   .    .  368 

XL.  Madam  Winslow's  Armchair  373 

XLI.  A  Quilting  Bee  and  a  Sing  381 

XLII.  Robert  Shurtliffe   394 

XLIII.  Horatio  Nelson  and  Lucy  Hammatt  .   .  .  401 

XLIV.  Mother  Crewe's  Last  Curse  412 

XLV.  A  Day  of  Terror  422 

XL VI.  Phairo!  Phairo!  Phairo!  435 

XLVII.  The  Woman  Soldier  447 

XL  VIII.  Over  the  Hills  and  Far  Away  454 

APPENDIX. 

Captain  Samson's  Petition  to  the  Provincial  Con- 
gress  459 


DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


CHAPTER  L 
"  don't  be  in  a  hurry,  widow  ! " 

There  was  a  funeral  in  Elkanah  Cushman's  new  house 
on  Court  Street,  corner  of  Court  Square  as  we  now  say, 
although  in  those  days  the  old  folk  still  spoke  of  the 
Great  Gutter,  while  the  modish  young  people  called  it 
Framing  Green,  because  the  Gutter  had  been  leveled 
and  smoothed  into  a  grass  plot  convenient  for  laying 
together  the  frame  of  a  house. 

Elkanah  himself  called  it  Framing  Green,  when  he 
told  Lydia  Bradford  that  he  had  bought  of  Parson 
Leonard  the  house  on  its  northerly  corner,  and  asked 
her  to  come  and  be  its  mistress. 

Lydia  was  barely  nineteen,  and  had  always  lived  in 
Kingston,  so  that  the  idea  of  becoming  suzeraine  of  a  big 
house  on  the  corner  of  Framing  Green  and  Court  Street, 
Plymouth,  was  rather  attractive ;  and  she  had  no  dislike 
to  Elkanah  Cushman,  though  she  privately  thought  him 
too  old  for  love  or  marriage,  his  two-and-thirty  years 
having  done  themselves  full  justice  upon  the  stooping 
figure  and  lengthy  face  of  the  suitor. 

David  Bradford,  with  his  large  family  and  small  in- 
come, was  also  quite  alive  to  the  advantage  of  marrying 
a  daughter  into  the  wealthy  Cushman  connection ;  and 


2      DR.   LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


the  mother,  as  she  kissed  her  child  good-by  upon  the 
wedding  day,  said,  with  a  smile  and  a  tear,  — 

"  Well,  daughter  Cushman,  I  shall  often  be  over  to 
see  you,  for  Plymouth  is  more  home  to  me  than  Kings- 
ton, for  all  I  Ve  married  out  o'  town !  " 

So  Elkanah  brought  home  his  bride  to  the  goodly 
house  he  had  prepared  for  her,  and  when  in  another 
year  a  baby  Elkanah  came  to  help  fill  its  lonely  chambers, 
Lydia  felt  that  life  had  really  something  to  offer  worth 
the  living  for ;  but  then  the  silent,  reserved  husband 
sickened  and  died,  and  to-day  he  was  buried. 

The  dreary  memory  of  all  these  things  mingled  itself 
with  Parson  Leonard's  drearier  prayer  in  the  young 
widow's  ears,  as  she  sat  in  the  little  room  dedicated  to 
the  chief  mourners,  and  wept  some  natural  tears,  but  not 
enough  to  satisfy  Mrs.  Elkanah  Cushman  senior,  who 
sternly  watched  her  daughter-in-law,  and  would  have  been 
glad  to  attend  her  to  some  modified  form  of  suttee. 

The  prayer,  following  the  usual  course,  did  justice  to 
the  good  qualities  of  the  deceased,  and  they  were  many, 
and  carefully  avoided  all  mention  of,  or  all  petition  for, 
the  state  of  the  departed  soul ;  for,  so  fearful  were  the 
colonists  of  Roman  error  in  the  matter  of  masses  for  the 
dead  or  purgatorial  interference,  that  it  was  only  of  late 
any  religious  services  at  all  had  been  held  at  funerals  ; 
and  now,  when  the  parson,  softening  his  Calvinistic  voice, 
alluded  with  as  much  tenderness  as  was  in  him  to  the 
young  widow  and  fatherless  child,  Lydia  raised  her 
heavy  eyes,  and  cast  one  look  of  affectionate  regret 
toward  the  coffin  visible  through  the  open  door,  with  the 
spare  figure  of  the  preacher  at  its  head.  Behind  him, 
however,  stood  another  man,  and  as  the  widow's  tearful 
eyes  met  his,  a  gleam  of  gratitude  and  childish  appeal 


DON'T  BE  IN  A  HURRY,  WIDOW!"  3 


shot  through  the  tears,  and  softened  the  lines  of  the 
pretty  baby  mouth  quivering  so  piteously. 

Lazarus  LeBaron  caught  the  expression,  read  it  truly, 
and  cast  his  own  eyes  thoughtfully  down  upon  the 
pinched  features  of  the  dead  man  lying  so  quietly  in 
the  midst. 

He  had  done  all  that  in  him  lay  to  save  this  man's 
life,  and  he  was  glad  to  remember  it  now.  He  had  not 
liked  him  nor  pretended  to,  but  he  had  watched  by  his 
bedside  night  and  day  with  unremitting  care ;  nay,  he 
had  stolen  from  the  hours  of  needful  repose  the  time  to 
con  over  and  over  not  only  the  medical  books  his  father 
had  found  sufficient  for  every  need,  but  those  imported 
by  himself  from  London,  Paris,  and  Germany. 

He  had  expended  upon  this  case  all  the  care  and  all 
the  skill  at  his  command ;  and  these  were  no  ordinary 
gifts,  for  not  only  was  Lazarus  LeBaron  a  born  physi- 
cian, but  he  was  son  of  that  Francis  LeBaron  described 
as  A  Nameless  Nobleman  because  of  the  mystery  that 
shrouded  his  origin,  but  of  whom  it  was  soon  discovered 
with  absolute  certainty  that  he  was  possessed  of  ex- 
traordinary medical  and  surgical  skill,  besides  knowing 
how  to  hold  his  tongue  more  persistently  than  any  other 
man  on  record,  at  least  in  the  annals  of  the  Old 
Colony. 

The  mantle  of  the  father's  skill  had  fallen  squarely 
upon  the  shoulders  of  the  son,  and  Doctor  Lazarus  Le- 
Baron was  a  recognized  power  for  life  and  death  any- 
where inside  a  hundred  miles  from  Plymouth. 

Moreover,  since  his  widowerhood,  now  some  twelve 
months  old,  many  a  woman,  maid  or  widow,  within  that 
radius,  had  quietly  noted  the  doctor's  stalwart,  deep- 
chested  figure,  fresh  coloring,  and  noble  if  haughty  head. 


4       DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


Many  an  one,  too,  had  discussed  the  color  and  meaning 
of  the  steady  eyes,  whose  power  all  had  felt  in  one  way 
or  another,  but  in  what  different  ways ! 

Elkanah  Cushman  had  known  them  keen,  thoughtful, 
and  peremptory ;  Lydia,  in  her  sorrow  and  bereavement, 
had  found  them  the  kindest,  gentlest,  most  encouraging 
eyes  she  had  ever  met ;  her  mother-in-law,  Mrs.  Cushman 
senior,  felt  them  to  be  sarcastic,  quizzical,  mocking,  or, 
as  she  briefly  phrased  it,  hateful.  His  late  wife  had 
found  them  very  patient,  but  generally  very  inscrutable 
eyes,  and  his  children  knew  them  to  be  affectionate, 
humorous,  and  occasionally  stern. 

And  now  Parson  Leonard  had  finished  his  prayer 
with  a  grewsome  warning  to  all  present  that,  however 
strong  or  well  or  young  they  might  be  to-day,  the  time 
was  short  ere  they  must  follow  their  deceased  brother 
to  the  silent  tomb,  and  after  that  to  judgment. 

Then  he  drew  back  to  the  doctor's  side,  and  six  men, 
carefully  selected  as  contemporary  with  Elkanah  Cush- 
man, came  forward,  and  raising  the  coffin  laid  it  upon 
the  hand-bier  waiting  at  the  door,  for  a  hearse  had  never 
yet  been  seen  in  Plymouth.  The  procession,  of  men  only, 
was  formed,  and,  preceded  by  the  bier  with  its  relay  of 
bearers,  passed  solemnly  through  the  village,  turned  up 
through  Town  Square,  and,  painfully  climbing  Burying 
Hill,  paused  at  the  grave  dug  near  that  great  ancestor 
of  the  dead  man,  the  famous  Elder,  whose  modern  monu- 
ment is  so  dwarfed  by  the  ancient  gravestone  beside  it. 

Here  they  laid  Elkanah,  third  of  the  name,  to  his  rest ; 
and  when  all  was  done.  Doctor  LeBaron  quietly  detached 
himself  from  the  crowd,  and,  passing  on  in  a  southerly 
direction,  stood  for  a  few  moments  beside  a  gray  head- 
stone, whose  recent  inscription  told  that  here  reposed 


'^DOJSTT  BE  IN  A  HURRY,  WIDOW! 


5 


•'Lydia,  wife  of  Doctor  Lazarus  LeBaron,"  hardly  a 
twelvemonth  dead.  Long  he  looked,  and  perhaps  that 
expression  of  patience  and  sadness  Lydia  Bartlett  so 
well  had  known  was  strongest  among  the  many  that 
passed  across  his  face ;  but  at  the  last  he  stooped  to 
gather  a  weed  from  out  the  turf  over  that  unquiet  heart, 
and  muttered,  "  Poor  girl !  Poor  girl !  It  cannot  fret 
thee  now." 

A  few  steps  beyond  lay  his  father's  grave,  and  beside 
it  a  more  recent  one,  telling  that  here  slept  Mary  Wilder, 
who,  having  married  Return  Waite  as  a  second  husband, 
had  on  her  death-bed  pleaded  to  be  laid  in  her  last  sleep 
beside  her  first  love,  her  true  husband. 

Reading  the  brief  lines  that  seem  framed  to  avoid 
confession  of  this  faithful  infidelity,  Lazarus  shook  his 
head. 

"  Poor  mother !  "  whispered  he,  "  thou  hadst  better 
been  content  with  thy  widowhood  !  Perhaps  one  happy 
marriage  is  all  that  is  granted  —  howbeit  "  — 

And  with  the  air  of  one  whose  mind  is  resolved  the 
doctor  strode  along  the  brow  of  the  hill,  turned  down  its 
northern  slope,  and,  crossing  the  Great  Gutter  near  its 
head,  approached  the  house  of  the  widow  Cushman,  as 
Lydia  was  already  called,  from  the  rear.  Here  in  the 
horse-shed,  then  hospitably  provided  for  the  use  of  his 
guests  by  every  householder,  stood  the  doctor's  horse 
munching  his  measure  of  oats,  while  the  saddle  and 
saddle-bags  hung  upon  a  hook  above  the  rack,  the  mer- 
ciful man  being  merciful  to  his  beast  then  as  now. 

"  Come,  Pegasus !  Leave  the  rest  for  another  day, 
boy !    We  're  wanted  in  Plympton  before  night." 

And  the  doctor,  who  like  his  father  was  a  little  givei 
to  soliloquy,  as  indeed  ure  most  men  not  quite  in  sym 


6       DR  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


pathy  with  their  surroundings,  led  out  Pegasus,  still 
munching  the  last  of  the  oats,  and  proceeded  to  bridle 
and  saddle  him  upon  the  grass  patch  close  behind  the 
house.  Before  the  operation  was  complete  the  back 
door  opened,  and  a  very  black  woman,  her  face  preter- 
naturally  solemn,  as  befitted  a  house  of  mourning,  came 
forward. 

"  Mist'ss  says,  Mas'r  Doctor,  you  had  n't  ought  to  go 
furder  widout  'freshments.  Please  fer  ter  walk  in  de 
dining-room  where  dey 's  laid  out  fer  de  mourners." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  Violet.  Tell  Mrs.  Cushman  that  I 
cannot  wait "  — 

But  here  a  window  was  softly  raised,  and  a  blond 
head  quaintly  adorned  with  a  widow's  cap  appeared. 
The  doctor  looked  up  and  took  off  his  hat,  but  the  apol- 
ogy upon  his  lips  was  forestalled. 

"  Surely,  Doctor,  you  won't  refuse  a  glass  of  wine  and 
a  mouthful  of  meat  before  your  long  ride.  You  will  not 
be  so  unfriendly,  I  hope." 

The  sweet  voice  had  a  tremble  in  it  which  made  it 
irresistible,  and  Doctor  Lazarus  answered  by  throwing 
the  bridle  over  a  hook  set  for  that  purpose  at  the  door 
of  the  shed. 

The  window  was  closed  as  softly  as  it  had  been 
raised,  and  when  Violet  showed  the  guest  through  the 
great  homely  kitchen  into  the  dining-room,  he  found 
it  deserted,  although  a  door  at  the  other  side  of  the 
room  closed  as  he  entered.  A  small  smile  brightened 
the  somewhat  sombre  eyes  that  observed  the  incident, 
but  the  doctor  said  nothing  until  he  had  hastily  swallowed 
some  of  the  food  and  wine  profusely  set  forth  by  way  of 
"  funeral  baked  meats,"  and  rose  to  depart.  Then,  hat 
in  hand,  he  too  passed  through  the  door  in  question,  and 


**DON*T  BE  IN  A  HURRY,  WIDOW!'*  7 


found  himself  in  the  family  sitting-room.  Here,  in  a 
low  chair  beside  the  hearth,  sat  Lydia  Cushman,  some  of 
her  cumbrous  mourning  laid  aside,  and  little  Elkanah 
upon  her  knees.  At  sight  of  her  guest,  however,  she 
put  the  child  upon  his  feet,  and  rose,  with  a  pretty  flush 
in  her  cheeks. 

"  I  hope  you  took  something — I  knew  you  would  ex- 
cuse me  —  mother  Cushman  says  I  can't  be  too  particu- 
lar now  that  I  am  left  alone  —  but  —  I  hope  you  won't 
be  a  stranger,  Doctor  "  — 

The  fluttering  voice  died  away  in  a  little  sob,  and 
Doctor  Lazarus  took  the  soft  white  hand  in  his  own. 

"  I  sha'n't  come  unless  I  am  needed,  and  mother  Cush- 
man need  not  be  alarmed  —  but  —  don't  he  in  a  hurry ^ 
widow  !  " 

And  with  this  somewhat  enigmatical  advice  Doctor 
Lazarus  took  his  departure,  nor  crossed  that  threshold 
again  for  several  months. 

"  She's  sly  enough  for  anything,"  said  mother  Cash* 
man* 


CHAPTER  n. 


SILVER-HEAD  TOM. 

Pegasus  trotted  steadily  on,  occasionally  indulging  in 
a  canter  on  some  inviting  bit  of  descent,  and  subsiding 
to  a  walk  upon  the  steep  ascents,  until  within  the  bor- 
ders of  Kingston  his  hoofs  clattered  over  the  bridge 
spanning  Jones  River,  and  a  salt  breath  of  the  incoming 
tide  fell  refreshingly  upon  the  doctor's  cheek. 

Drawing  rein,  he  sat  for  a  moment  gazing  upon  the 
fair  scene  which  a  century  and  well  nigh  a  half  has 
hardly  changed  :  the  calm  river  sliding  seaward  between 
its  grassy  banks,  the  wide  marshes  bourgeoning  into 
glory  as  the  sun's  level  rays  strike  athwart  their  ripe 
wet  grasses,  the  verdure  of  Clark's  Island  in  the  offing, 
the  graceful  Gurnet,  the  fair  green  slopes  of  Captain's 
Hill,  where  Standish  lived  and  died,  curving  far  out  into 
the  bay,  and  beneath  all  and  over  all  the  soothing  blue 
of  sea  and  sky,  out  of  whose  hollow  ever  flows  that 
sweet  salt  breath,  pungent  and  wooing  as  the  kiss  of  an 
Amazon. 

The  doctor  threw  back  his  shoulders  and  inhaled  it 
eagerly,  then  smiled  in  a  dry,  whimsical  fashion  all  his 
own,  and  as  he  tightened  the  rein  muttered  behind  his 
teeth  a  line  of  Virgil,  to  the  effect  that  men,  who  call 
themselves  the  head  of  creation,  are  but  impertinent 
ephemera,  flitting  for  a  brief  moment  through  the  exter- 
nal spaces  of  nature's  stability. 


SILVER-HEAD  TOM. 


9 


From  which  one  infers  that  love  was  not  as  yet  lord 
of  all  in  the  doctor's  life. 

A  mile  or  two  beyond  the  bridge,  as  Pegasus  trotted 
stolidly  past  a  lonely  farmhouse,  his  progress  was  ar- 
rested by  a  sturdy  little  fellow,  perhaps  six  years  old, 
who,  rushing  down  the  path  from  the  door  to  the  bars, 
shouted,  — 

"Ma'am  wants  Mister  Doctor!  She  says  stop  a 
minute." 

"  What 's  the  matter,  Sim  ?  Does  ma'am  want  some 
senna-and-salts  for  you  ?  " 

"  No,  sir.  I  ain't  ailing,"  replied  Simeon,  with  a  grin 
and  a  puppy-like  twist  of  his  fat  little  body.  "  May  be 
it 's  Silver-head  Tom.  He  was  talking  to  ma'am  about 
you  —  here 's  ma'am !  " 

And  to  be  sure,  a  comely  young  matron  now  appeared 
upon  the  scene,  an  apron  thrown  over  her  head,  and  a 
baby  in  her  arms. 

"  Oh,  Doctor,  I  hope  you  '11  excuse  my  stopping  you, 
and  I  hope  Simeon  has  said  naught  amiss  "  — 

"  Not  he  !  Sim 's  one  of  my  greatest  friends,  and  by 
and  by  shall  marry  one  of  my  daughters  ;  for  he  '11  make 
his  way  in  the  world,  and  that 's  more  than  ever  I  did, 
or  shall." 

"  More  than  his  own  father  has  done,  and  that 's  not 
joking,  as  you  are.  Doctor,"  said  Mary  Samson  in 
rather  an  offended  tone  ;  for  nothing  irritates  really  un- 
fortunate people  like  the  mock  humilty  of  those  whom 
they  believe  more  happy. 

"  Nay,  then,  good  wife,  but  what  do  you  hear  from 
Peleg  ?  I  know  Captain  John  Winslow  sent  home  let- 
ters the  other  day  from  the  West  Indies,  and  I  dare  say 
one  was  for  you." 


10      DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


"  Yes,  Doctor,  I  got  a  scrape  of  the  pen ;  but  my  pooir 
man  is  no  penman  at  the  best,  and  he  hardly  said  more 
than  that  he  was  sick  and  had  been  nigh  unto  death 
with  yellow  fever,  caught  in  one  of  those  dreadful  nigger 
holes  "  — 

"  Niggers  don't  often  have  yellow  fever.  Jack  likes 
white  meat  better,"  said  the  doctor  absently ;  and  Mrs. 
Samson,  with  rather  a  toss  of  the  head,  turned  toward 
the  house.  The  doctor  followed,  but  happily  refrained 
from  speaking  aloud  his  thought,  which  was,  "I  wish 
Winslow  would  bring  me  home  a  case  of  Yellow  Jack. 
I 'd  like  to  try  conclusions  with  him  !  " 

"  Well,  there,  now,"  cried  the  soldier's  wife,  turning 
round  on  the  doorstep,  once  a  millstone,  and  smiling  as 
good-humoredly  as  ever,  "  I 've  never  told  you  yet  why 
I  hailed  you.  It's  Silver-head  Tom,  and  here  he  is. 
Come  in,  and  sit  down  a  minute  with  him." 

Following  the  wave  of  her  hand,  the  doctor  entered 
the  great  cool  kitchen  of  the  farmhouse,  and  confronted 
a  patriarchal  old  man  who  stood  leaning  upon  a  crutch- 
stick  and  anxiously  watching  the  door.  As  the  doctor 
approached  he  made  a  tremulous  reverence,  touched  his 
white  hair,  and  said  :  — 

"  I 'm  proud  to  see  you,  sir.  I 've  always  laid  out  to 
go  to  Plymouth  some  day,  just  to  look  at  your  father's 
son." 

"  My  father !  Did  you  know  him  ?  "  cried  Doctor 
Lazarus  eagerly,  and  with  an  air  of  interest  not  many 
subjects  could  call  to  his  face. 

Know  him !  I  guess  I  did,  young  man.  Why,  I  was 
a  fool,  and  he  cured  me !  " 

"  And  never  left  the  prescription  for  curing  fools 
behind  him  to  make  his  son's  fortune  !  "  murmured  the 


SILVER-HEAD  TOM. 


11 


doctor.  "  Come,  now,  sit  down  and  tell  me  the  whole 
story,  grandsir.  What  name  did  Mrs.  Samson  give  you, 
but  now  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  she  said  Silver-head  Tom,  for  that 's  what 
I 'm  mostly  called,"  replied  the  old  man,  with  an  air  of 
injured  dignity.  "  But  my  name 's  Clark,  —  Thomas 
Clark." 

"  And  why  do  they  call  you  Silver-head,  Mr.  Clark  ? 
for  your  hair  is  no  whiter  than  that  of  most  men  at  your 
age." 

That 's  the  peth  of  the  whole  matter,  Doctor.  That 's 
Vtrhy  I  wanted  to  get  speech  of  you  all  these  years." 

And  the  old  man  chuckled  so  immoderately  over  his 
little  jest  that  he  coughed  nearly  as  long,  and  Mary 
Samson  came  to  bring  him  a  cocoanut  shell  of  water, 
to  thump  his  back,  and  to  say  reprovingly,  — 

"  Now,  grandsir,  now  !  You 'd  ought  to  know  better 
than  set  yourself  off  that  way,  —  an  old  man  like  you !  " 

"  There,  there,  that  '11  do,  woman !  "  gasped  the  old 
man  at  last.    "  I 'm  right  enough  now,  and  the  doctor 
heerd  a  man  cough  before  to-day,  hain't  you,  Doctor  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure  I  have.    Well,  then  ?  " 

"  Well,  when  I  was  a  boy  my  folks  lived  over  to  Ply- 
mouth, Eel  River  way,  you  know.  Do  they  call  it  Eel 
River  now  ?  " 

"  Yes,  just  the  same.    Well  ?  " 

"  Well,  't  was  in  the  time  of  the  Injun  troubles  along 
about  —  well,  about "  — 

"  About  1676,  perhaps?" 
Yes,  along  about  there.    I  never  had  no  head  for 
numbers,  and  it  holds  to  reason  the  French  doctor 
could  n't  give  me  what  I  never  had  before." 

"  That  is  Doctor  Francis  LeBaron,  —  my  father  ?  " 
asked  Doctor  Lazarus  suggestively. 


X2    DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


"  The  same,  though  he  was  n't  round  in  these  parts 
when  I  got  the  wownd.  Guess  he  was  in  France,  or 
may  be  he  was  n't  born  "  — 

"  Never  mind  which,  grandsir,  but  get  on  with  your 
story,  for  I 'm  in  haste." 

"  Well,  I  was  just  a-saying  it  was  in  the  time  of  the 
Injun  troubles,  and  uncle  Clark's  house  was  a  kind  of 
garrison,  where  the  neighbors  could  run  in,  or  leave 
the  women  and  children,  case  o'  danger. 

"  'T  was  of  a  Sunday  it  happened,  and  father  and 
mother 'd  gone  to  Plymouth  to  meeting,  and  left  us 
young  ones  into  the  garrison,  with  a  whole  lot  more, 
women  and  children  and  old  folks.  Then  them  red  div- 
vies, Totoson  and  Tispequin's  band  it  was,  they  got  their 
chance  somehow,  and  first  we  knew  —  Lord !  'T  seems 
as  though  I  heerd  'em  now  —  how  they  screeched  and 
how  they  yelled  —  Lord !  " 

And  the  old  man's  voice  quavered,  while  the  piteous 
tears  of  old  age  rose  in  the  rheumy  caverns  of  the  past, 
and  coursed  idly  down  the  cheeks  so  ashen,  so  seamed, 
so  sunken. 

"  Don't  mind  that  part,  grandsir,"  said  Mary  Samson 
gently.  "  Here,  now,  take  a  sup  of  cider,  and  mind  you 
that  it 's  all  long  gone  by." 

"  Yes,  long  gone  by,  and  I 'm  a-going  too.  May  be  I  '11 
see  little  Lois  the  way  she  used  to  be,  and  not  —  well, 
well,  it  don't  do  for  me  to  picter  it  out  too  partikeler,  or 
I  could  n't  tell  what  comes  after.  But  just  as  I  was 
running  to  catch  Lois  out  o'  that  red  divvle's  hand,  an- 
other feller's  tommyhawk  ketched  me  right  atop  of  my 
head,  and  I  did  n't  know  no  more.  No,  nor  did  n't  know 
no  more  for  most  twenty  year ;  I  was  a  fool,  same  as 
any  fool  up  to  the  poor-farm,  or  anywhere  you  like. 


SILVER-HEAD  TOM. 


13 


You  see  that  there  tommyhawk  had  split  a  piece  offen 
my  skull;  and  it  had  kind  o'  settled  down  onter  the  brain, 
and  that  made  a  fool  out  one  o'  the  smartest  boys  ever 
you  see/' 

^*Yes,  and  then?''  asked  the  doctor  eagerly,  as  the 
old  man  paused  to  chuckle  feebly  and  rub  his  hands. 

"  Well,  the  doctor  came,  —  all  the  doctor  there  was, 
one  Brown  ;  but  he  wa'n't  more  'n  half-wit  himself,  and 
he  never  found  out  what  was  the  real  matter,  only 
healed  up  the  scalp-wownd  and  called  it  done,  and  there 
was  I  a  fool !  All  this,  mind  you,  is  hearsay,  for  I  don't 
know  nothing  about  it,  not  the  first  thing  after  I  see  my 
little  sister  hanging  over  that  Injun's  arm,  the  blood  run- 
ning down  her  yaller  curls  "  — 

"  And  my  father  found  you  so  !  " 

"No,  he  didn't  find  me,  but  my  folks  heerd  of  the 
great  French  doctor  over  to  Plymouth,  for  they 'd  moved 
to  Kingston  then,  and  father  was  dead ;  but  mother 
she  heerd  tell  of  how  he 'd  cured  Mis'  Hunter,  and  many 
a  one  more,  and  she  sot  her  mind  on  trying  if  he  could  n't 
help  her  poor  fool,  for  I 'd  been  such  a  bright  boy,  you 
see,  and 't  was  most  a  pity,  now,  wa'n't  it  ?  " 

"  The  poor  mother,  —  yes,"  replied  the  doctor  softly, 
as  he  bent  forward,  his  arm  upon  his  knee,  his  eyes 
eagerly  fixed  upon,  the  old  man's  face,  while  a  tenderer 
smile  than  usual  played  around  his  thin  lips. 

"  Well,  she  harnessed  up  the  old  horse,  for  she  was 
pretty  poor  since  father  died,  and  she  did  n't  have  no 
hired  man  to  help  her,  and  she  got  me  in  the  cart,  a 
kind  of  a  drag  it  was,  and  kep'  me  there  with  apples  ;  for 
I  was  such  a  fool  that  if  I  see  a  bright  blow  on  the  road- 
side, or  anything  else  I  wanted,  like  as  not  I 'd  pitch  i^ight 
out  after  it,  —  a  real  reg'lar  fool,  mind  you  "  — 


14 


DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


"  I  see,  yes." 

Well,  we  got  to  the  doctor's,  so  ma'am  used  to  say, 
and  she  told  him  all  about  it,  and  got  me  to  set  down  and 
let  him  feel  of  my  head.  Then  he  looked  inter  my  eyes, 
and  took  my  pulse,  and  so  forth  and  so  on,  and  fin'lly 
he  told  my  mother  that  ef  she  'd  resk  it,  he 'd  perform  an 
operation  that  might  cure  me,  and  then  ag'in  might  kill, 
but  he  rather  thought  it 'd  turn  out  all  right.  Well, 
ma'am  she  was  an  awful  spunky  woman,  and  not  used 
to  backing  out  when  once  she 'd  got  under  way  for  a 
p'int,  so  after  thinking  it  over  some,  she  said  she 'd  resk 
it,  for  a  man  might  as  well  be  dead  as  be  a  fool.  The 
doctor  he  said  she  was  some  kind  of  a  mother  —  ma'am 
never  could  call  to  mind  just  what  kind,  but  'twa'n't 
French,  though  you 'd  suppose  he 'd  kind  o'  favored  his 
own  native  talk,  but  she  was  main  sure  it  wa'n't  French ; 
and  then  he  said  he  could  n't  do  it  right  off,  for  he 'd  got 
to  hev  some  things  from  Boston  to  do  it  with,  and  he 
could  n't  get  'em  till  some  one  was  going,  or  he  went 
himself,  and  then  he  asked  her  if  she  could  afford  to 
pay  what  it  would  cost. 

"  Well,  that  was  kind  o'  discouraging  to  mother,  for 
like  as  not  she  had  n't  over  a  fo'pence-ha'penny  in  her 
pocket  that  minute,  and  wa'n't  dead  sure  where  she 'd 
get  the  next  one.  But  she  kep'  a  stiff  upper  lip,  and  she 
says  she  did  n't  know  as 't  would  be  right  convenient  to 
pay  the  whole  expense  to  once,  but  if  the  doctor  could 
wait  a  little,  or  if  he 'd  take  it  out  in  truck,  her  apples 
was  as  good  as  anybody's,  'specially  the  high-top  sweet- 
ings ;  —  yes,  I  see  you  're  in  a  hurry.  Doctor,  so  the  long 
and  the  short  on 't  is,  your  father  he  said  he 'd  leave  it 
that  last  way,  and  he 'd  come  and  get  the  apples,  or  what- 
ever, along  as  he  wanted  'em  ;  and  sure  'nough,  while 


SILVER-HEAD  TOM. 


15 


mother  lived,  and  that  wa'n't  hut  two-three  years,  the 
French  doctor 'd  come  riding  up  same  as  you  did  to-day, 
and  he 'd  set  and  eat  an  apple  and  have  a  drink  of  cider, 
for  he  said  that  was  apples  too,  and  mabbe  he'd  put 
half  a  dozen  or  so  of  high-tops  into  his  saddle-bags  and 
carry  home  for  Mis'  LeBaron  to  bake ;  and  I  do  suppose 
he  took  up  most  two  shillin'  of  his  bill  that  way,  and  as 
fer  the  rest,  —  why,  the  Lord 's  a  good  paymaster." 

"  And  what  did  he  do  to  you,  my  friend  ?  "  asked  Doc- 
tor Lazarus,  with  infinite  patience  in  his  voice. 

"  Lord,  yes,  I  was  nigh  forgetting  that  part,  —  kind  o' 
lost  my  landfall.  Well,  after  a  while  he  sent  word  to 
mother  to  fetch  me  over  and  leave  me  for  two-three  days 
and  his  wife  would  take  keer  of  me,  for  I 'd  need  be 
kep'  very  quiet  after  the  operation  ;  an'  mother  she  done 
it,  only  she  asked  Mis'  LeBaron  to  let  her  stop  too,  and 
do  some  work  or  'nother  to  pay  for  her  board,  and  she 
give  her  word  she  would  n't  interfere  with  what  the  doc- 
tor see  fit  to  do,  let  it  be  what  it  might.  She  had  good  grit, 
ma'am  had,  and  the  doctor  see  it,  and  he  let  her  stop 
right  through ;  but  I  never  could  get  her  to  tell  me  about 
it  very  clear,  for  the  thought  on 't  always  made  her  feel 
faint  and  squalmish ;  but  as  near  as  I  can  make  out,  the 
doctor  strapped  me  down  tight  on  a  kind  of  frame  he 'd 
fixed,  and  then  he  took  and  sawed  a  piece  right  outen 
my  skull,  and  then  he  poked  in  and  got  the  piece  o'  bone 
that  had  caved  in  and  laid  outer  my  brain  all  them 
years,  and  pulled  it  out  and  showed  it  to  ma'am.  Then 
he  took  a  silver  plate  he 'd  got  all  ready  there,  and  just 
kivered  the  whole  right  over  and  pegged  it  down,  and 
there  'tis  to-day." 

Arriving  at  which  climax,  Silver-head  Tom  pulled  off 
the  little  black  cap  he  always  wore  in  the  house,  and  dis* 


16       DR.  LeBARON  and  his  DAUGHTERS. 


played  a  silver  plate  glistening  with  ghastly  effect  apon 
the  crown  of  his  bald  head. 

Doctor  Lazarus  examined  it  with  breathless  interest 
and  admiration. 

"  I  am  proud  once  more  of  my  father.  Forty  years 
ago  or  more,  and  few  men  would  do  as  well  to-day !  But 
here  are  letters  engraved  upon  the  silver." 

"  Ay,  all  one,  my  old  woman  used  to  say,  as  if 't  was 
a  coffin  plate,"  replied  Silver-head  Tom  rather  resent- 
fully. "  *T  is  his  name,  and  the  year,  and  some  gibberish 
of  doctor's  talk,  they  tell  me,  for  I  never  see  the  top  of 
my  own  head  yet." 

"Oh,  ay,  — ^F.  LeB.  fecit  1699,'  — plain  enough, 
and  more  like  a  monument,  my  friend,  than  like  a  coffin 
plate,  for  it  tells  not  of  the  emptiness  that  lies  beneath, 
but  of  something  better,  gone  before.  And  now.  Silver- 
head  Tom,  for  the  sake  of  that  story,  and  for  my 
father's  sake,  I  am  your  friend  and  your  physician  for 
the  rest  of  your  life.  Never  shall  you  lack  for  tobacco 
when  you  're  well,  nor  physic  when  you  're  sick,  and 
when  you  die  I  promise  you  a  silver  coffin  plate  twice 
as  big  as  that  upon  your  head." 

"  There,  now,  grandsir,  now  you  're  wholefooted,  ain't 
you  !  "  exclaimed  Mary  Samson,  well  pleased,  as  the  old 
man  choked  and  gurgled  his  thanks.  "  You  see,  Doctor, 
he 's  a  man  that 's  been  unfortunate,  and  all  his  folks 
are  dead,  and  he 's  got  no  means  left  and  no  home,  and 
so  for  old  times'  sake  —  for  the  Clarks  and  the  Rings 
and  the  Samsons  have  always  been  neighbor-folk  — 
Peleg  and  I  we  asked  him  to  make  his  home  with 
us,  and  kind  o'  chore  round  a  little.  I 'm  glad  to  do 
what  I  can  for  the  old  man,  and  I  guess  he 's  pretty 
contented,  ain't  you,  gx^andsir?  " 


SILVER-HEAD  TOM. 


17 


"  Yes,  —  oh,  yes,  I  s'pose  I  be,  Mis'  Samson.  I 'd 
like  well  enough  to  have  a  glass  o'  grog  sarved  out  a 
leetle  of tener  "  — 

But  Doctor  Lazarus,  rising  to  take  his  leave,  caught 
a  warning  glance  shot  over  the  speaker's  head,  and  he 
answered  promptly  :  — 

"  Oh,  no,  Clark,  not  grog  for  a  man  with  a  silver  plate 
in  his  head.  Why,  man,  it 's  sure  death  for  you,  soon  or 
late.  Cider,  now,  cider 's  the  drink  for  you,  and  I  know 
Mistress  Samson  has  a  capital  brew  of  cider  on  tap,  but 
even  that  you  must  take  in  moderation,  Tom.  A  man 
with  a  silver  plate  in  his  head  has  got  to  be  careful. 
And  now  good-day  to  you  both,  for  really  I  must  be  in 
Plympton.  Sim,  my  boy,  here 's  a  penny  for  you,  and 
mind  you  grow  up  straight  and  handsome  for  one  of  my 
girls!" 


CHAPTER  III. 


BATHSHEBA  CREWE's  LOVER. 

Now,  then,  Pegasus,  we  must  make  up  for  lost  time/' 
remarked  the  doctor,  gathering  up  the  reins  and  touching 
the  good  horse  with  his  heel,  a  liberty  Pegasus  resented 
by  boring  forward  at  the  rate  of  twelve  miles  an  hour, 
and  carrying  his  master  out  of  Kingston  and  into  Plymp- 
ton  almost  before  he  was  saddle-fast.  The  twilight  had 
already  fallen,  and  as  the  doctor  turned  a  sharp  corner 
into  the  narrow  and  wooded  lane  leading  to  the  Widow 
Crewe's  lonely  farmhouse,  both  he  and  Pegasus  were 
startled  by  the  sudden  whinny  of  another  horse,  who, 
quietly  feeding  along  the  roadside,  narrowly  escaped 
collision  with  the  doctor's  steed. 

"  Who 's  there  ?  "  sharply  demanded  the  doctor,  peer- 
ing into  the  shade  of  a  clump  of  birches,  where  some 
figures  appeared  to  be  stealthily  moving  out  of  sight. 

"  Oh,  it 's  you,  Doctor  !  "  replied  a  man's  voice  rather 
sheepishly,  as  a  young  fellow  made  his  way  through  the 
bushes  into  the  road,  while  his  companion  continued  her 
retreat. 

"  Yes,  Ansel  Ring,  it  is  I,  coming  to  see  your  wife 
that  is  to  be.  How  does  she  fare  to-day  ?  "  And  the 
doctor,  drawing  his  shaggy  brows  together,  watched  with 
some  disfavor  the  motions  of  the  young  man  as  he 
caught  and  mounted  his  horse,  reining  him  in  behind 
that  of  the  doctor. 

"  I  say,  how  does  Bathsheba  feel  to-day  ?  "  reiterated 
he  peremptorily. 


BATHSHEBA  CREWE'S  LOVER. 


19 


"  Oh  —  I  —  I  Ve  not  seen  her  yet,  Doctor.  I  was 
just  going  there  —  I  just  came  over  from  Plymouth." 

"  And  did  n't  Molly  Peach  give  you  news  of  her 
friend  just  now?  I  thought  she  was  here  to  nurse 
Bathsheba." 

"  Yes,  certainly  —  oh,  I  suppose  so  —  yes,  but  I  only 
just  met  her.  She  said  she  was  tired,  and  stepped  down 
the  lane  for  a  mouthful  of  fresh  air,  and  so  I  happened 
to  come  along  "  — 

"  Hm !  "  replied  the  doctor,  and  the  two  rode  on  in 
silence  until  the  road  ended  in  front  of  a  little  un- 
painted  cabin,  never  very  substantial,  and  now  falling 
into  ruin,  which  a  prevailing  air  of  untidiness  and  un- 
thrift  degenerated  into  squalor. 

The  doctor,  dismounting,  threw  the  bridle  over  a 
familiar  hook,  and  strode  into  the  house,  paying  no 
further  attention  to  the  young  man,  who  somewhat  dis- 
consolately rode  his  own  horse  round  to  a  wretched  shed, 
where  he  stabled  him  beside  the  widow's  meagre  cow 
and  in  unsavory  proximity  to  the  pig  and  fowls,  com- 
prising the  live-stock  of  the  farm.  Pegasus  would  prob- 
ably have  kicked  the  shed  down  before  he  would  have 
accepted  its  shelter. 

But  Ansel  Ring's  horse  was  of  meeker  mould,  and 
his  master,  having  provided  him  with  such  food  and  bed- 
ding as  were  to  be  had,  let  himself  quietly  in  at  the 
back  door  of  the  house,  and  passing  through  a  scullery 
ensconced  himself  in  the  end  of  the  great  fireplace, 
where  besides  a  fire  of  three-foot  logs  was  ample  room 
for  a  bench,  whose  occupant  could  look  straight  up  the 
wide,  short  chimney,  and  make  observations  upon  the 
weather  or  the  stars. 

A  door  opposite  this  fireplace  stood  open,  and  Ansel 


20       DR,  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS, 


moved  farther  into  the  chimney,  so  as  not  to  see  the 
corner  of  the  great  bedstead  with  its  curtains  of  dingy 
homespun,  and  the  figure  of  Molly  Peach  stooping  over 
the  pillow. 

A  pretty  creature  this  Molly  Peach,  with  a  white  and 
pink  skin  and  yellow  hair,  and  those  greenish-gray  eyes 
that  often  go  with  a  pure  blond  complexion  and  which 
wise  men  do  not  trust. 

At  the  other  side  of  the  bed  stood  Doctor  LeBaron, 
and  between  them  lay  the  worn  face  and  gaunt  figure 
of  Bathsheba  Crewe,  the  betrothed  of  Ansel  Ring,  the 
friend  of  Molly  Peach,  and  the  only  child  of  the  dark, 
uncanny  middle-aged  woman  who  stood  at  the  foot  of 
the  bed,  her  snake-like  black  eyes  roving  rapidly  from 
face  to  face  of  the  three  silent  figures  before  her. 

The  doctor  laid  down  the  attenuated  hand,  and  re- 
placed his  watch  in  his  pocket. 

"  She  took  the  draught  I  left,  and  the  cordial,  and 
the  powders  ?  "  asked  he,  looking  at  Molly. 

"Yes,  sir,  she  took  them  all,"  replied  the  girl,  not 
raising  her  eyes. 

"  She  took  them  all,  for  I  never  let  them  out  of  my 
sight  till  I  saw  them  down  her  throat,"  muttered  the 
mother,  with  a  suspicious  glance  at  Molly. 

"  And  who  watches  to-night  ? "  asked  the  doctor 
briefly. 

"  Her  man  said  he  would,"  croaked  the  widow.  "  He 
came  along  with  you,  did  n't  he.  Doctor  ?  " 

"  Yes.  He 's  out  in  the  kitchen.  But  you 'd  better 
sit  up  too,  widow.  She 's  a  very  sick  girl,  Bathsheba 
is,  and  there 'd  better  be  two  watchers.  Molly  Peach 
might  go  upstairs  to  bed." 

"All  right.  Doctor,"  replied  the  woman  eagerly 


BATH  SEED  A  CREWE'S  LOVER,  21 


"  that 's  the  way  it  '11  be,  and  you  '11  tell  me  about  the 
medicine.  I  can  give  it  to  her  full  as  well  as  any 
flibbertigibbet  that  comes  along,  I  guess." 

"  I  '11  tell  you  and  Ansel  both  ;  I 'm  going  out  to  my 
saddlebags  for  what  is  wanted,  and  I  '11  speak  to  him." 

"  Give  me  something  to  make  me  sleep,  Doctor ! 
I 'm  so  tired,  —  so  tired  !  "  moaned  the  sick  girl,  open- 
ing her  great  dark  eyes  for  the  first  time. 

"  No,  she  does  n't  sleep  at  all,"  said  Molly  officiously. 
"  And  she 's  so  restless  by  times,  and  then  all  gone,  Hke 
this." 

Well,  child,  you  shall  have  something  to  make  you 
sleep,  and  Ansel  will  sit  beside  you  and  see  that  you 
are  not  disturbed.  Ah,  that  pleases  you,  does  n't  it  ?  " 
And  the  doctor  hailed  with  kindly  approval  the  faint 
gleam  of  satisfaction  flitting  across  the  sick  girl's  ghastly 
face. 

Passing  out  through  the  kitchen,  he  beckoned  Ansel 
to  follow  him,  and  as  the  two  stood  beside  Pegasus  the 
doctor,  rummaging  his  saddlebags,  turned  a  keen  eye 
upon  the  young  man  and  said  :  — 

"  Hark  you,  now,  Ring  !  That  is  a  very  sick  girl,  and 
a  feather's  weight  more  may  be  the  feather's  weight  too 
much." 

H.e  waited  a  moment,  but  receiving  no  reply  went  on 
a  shade  more  sternly  :  — 

"You  are  to  watch  with  her  to-night,  for  the  old 
woman  amounts  to  nothing,  and  Molly  is  to  stay  up- 
stairs, mind  you.  If  you  are  going  to  play  this  girl 
false,  I  don't  suppose  you  want  to  kill  her  into  the  bar- 
gain." 

"  I  don't  know  as  you 've  any  call  to  say  I 'm  going 
to  play  anybody  false,"  began  the  young  fellow  sul- 


22    DR.  leBaron  and  his  daughters. 


lenly ;  but  the  doctor  put  him  aside  with  an  impatient 
"  Pshaw ! and  returning  to  the  kitchen  began  to  meas- 
ure out  and  compound  his  drugs  in  the  generous  doses 
of  that  day. 

"  Now  look  you  here,  mother  Crewe,  and  you  too, 
Ansel  Ring,  —  no,  not  you,  Molly,  for  you 've  nothing  to 
do  with  the  night  work  this  time,  —  this  powder  is  to 
make  her  sleep  quietly  ;  but  it  need  not  be  given  until 
bedtime,  —  nine  o'clock  or  so,  if  you 've  any  time 
piece  "  — 

"  I 've  got  a  watch.  Doctor,"  interrupted  young  Ring 
in  eager  boastf ulness,  dragging  up  from  his  fob  an  enor- 
mous silver  turnip  and  holding  it  affectionately  to  his 
ear.  "  She 's  going !  She 's  all  right !  "  added  he  in 
a  tone  of  relief,  as  he  turned  the  dial  toward  Doctor  Le- 
Baron's  quizzical  gaze. 

"  Well,  if  she  keeps  on  going  until  nine  o'clock,  you  '11 
give  Bathsheba  this  powder  in  jam,  or  applesauce,  or 
best  of  all  in  the  pulp  of  a  roast  apple  ;  but  before  that, 
just  now  if  she  will,  she  is  to  drink  as  much  as  can  be 
got  down  of  the  herb  tea  I  ordered  before,  and  you  are 
to  keep  the  dock  leaves  to  her  feet,  and  have  her  covered 
close  and  warm ;  in  the  morning,  early,  give  her  this 
draught ;  draw  the  curtain  across  the  foot  of  the  bed, 
but  not  at  the  sides,  for  I  hold  that  there  is  but  little 
danger  in  a  moderate  circulation  of  air  around  a  fever- 
ish patient  —  indeed  — hm  "  —  and  the  doctor  finished 
his  wise  heresy  to  himself  with  an  inarticulate  murmur. 

Mother  Crewe,  whose  toothless  jaws  worked  inces- 
santly, as  if  she  chewed  thoughts  too  venomous  for 
speech,  made  no  reply  to  these  instructions,  which  in- 
deed she  hardly  heard,  for  her  rheumy  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  the  fair  face  of  Molly  Peach,  thrust  forward  out 


BATHSHEBA  CREWE'S  LOVER. 


23 


of  the  shadow  of  the  bedroom,  whither  at  the  doctor's 
rebuff  she  had  retreated.  Ansel  Ring,  standing  close 
beside  the  table,  seemed  both  listening  and  watching 
intently,  as  the  doctor  laid  down  the  medicines  he  had 
prepared  and  with  his  last  words  took  up  his  hat  and 
gloves  and  moved  toward  the  door. 

"  I  am  going  on  to  Goodman  Ryder's,"  said  he,  paus- 
ing on  the  threshold,  "  and  if  I  find  him  no  better  than 
I  fear,  may  like  enough  stay  there  all  night.  In  that 
case  I  will  look  in  again  in  the  morning  as  I  ride  past. 
Good-e'en  to  ye." 

But  Ansel  Ring  followed  the  doctor,  and,  officiously 
helping  him  to  the  saddle,  blurted  out :  — 

"  I 'm  none  so  bad  as  you  're  thinking.  Doctor.  I 'm 
not  one  to  hurt  a  poor  sick  wench  like  that,  —  I 'm  not 
bad"  — 

"  Not  so  much  bad  as  weak,  my  boy,"  replied  the  doc- 
tor, kindly  enough,  if  a  little  contemptuously.  "  And 
that's  a  good  deal  more  dangerous,  both  for  yourself 
and  others.  But  I 've  hopes  you  '11  prove  man  enough 
to  hold  the  straight  course  until  Bathsheba  is  out  of  dan- 
ger, at  least." 

"  You  're  very  hard  on  me,  Doctor  "  —  began  Ansel ; 
but  already  Pegasus'  feet  were  clattering  on  the  stones 
of  the  lane  outside,  and  in  another  moment  his  rider  was 
hidden  in  the  leafy  gloom. 

Turning  into  the  house,  the  young  man  found  Molly 
stirring  the  fire  to  a  blaze,  hanging  on  the  kettle,  and 
making  various  preparations  for  supper  ;  not  tea,  for 
that  necessity  of  ours  was  almost  an  unknown  luxury 
of  our  great-grandfathers,  and  was  ill  represented  by 
various  decoctions  of  herbs,  by  cider  posset,  by  molasses 
knd  water,  or  by  milk  in  various  forms* 


24      DR,  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS, 


The  old  woman  was  gathering  up  the  medicines  in  hei 
claw-like  fingers,  and  mumbling  maliciously  over  them, 
with  side  glances  at  Molly,  who  now  brought  forward 
some  wooden  plates  and  iron  spoons,  and  waited  beside 
the  table  till  she  could  lay  them  upon  it. 

"  Yes,  I  '11  take  care  of  'em,"  muttered  the  crone  ;  "  I  '11 
see  that  my  poor  gal  gets  'em.  I  '11  leave  'em  to  none 
of  your  flibbertigibbets  and  light  o'  loves  to  mix  and 
meddle  with,  and  "  — 

She  hobbled  off  as  she  spoke,  and  Molly,  swiftly  pass- 
ing to  Ansel's  side,  whispered,  "  See  where  she  puts 
them ! "  and  was  back  at  the  table  before  mother 
Crewe,  jealously  turning  round  on  the  threshold,  could 
see  or  hear  her.  Without  reply  Ansel  followed  into  the 
bedroom,  and  apparently  bending  over  Bathsheba,  who 
again  lay  with  closed  eyes,  pale  and  still,  he  saw  how  her 
mother  hid  the  medicines  under  a  candlestick  upon  the 
high  mantelpiece ;  then  softly  passing  out  again,  he 
seized  a  bucket,  and  had  left  the  house  before  mother 
Crewe  returned,  and  sat  down  at  the  table  chuckling  to 
herself  in  a  ghastly  fashion.  Ansel  presently  came  in 
with  a  bucket  of  water,  and  Molly  placed  a  bowl  of  In- 
dian mush,  a  pitcher  of  milk,  and  another  of  molasses 
upon  the  table,  to  which  she  added  a  platter  of  bannocks 
of  rye  meal  mixed  with  sour  milk,  and  baked  upon  a 
board  before  the  fire ;  this  was  an  unusually  elabo- 
rate repast,  and  Molly  had  made  the  bannocks  as  a 
treat  for  Ansel,  who  was  fond  of  them.  The  brief  and 
gloomy  meal  over,  Molly  proceeded  to  clear  it  away, 
while  the  old  woman  wandered  in  and  out  of  the  sick 
room,  guarding  her  child  from  some  vague  danger,  with 
the  pathetic  restlessness  of  suspicious  and  helpless  age. 
Ansel  sat  wretchedly  beside  the  fire,  wishing  this,  wish- 


BATHSHEBA  CREWE'S  LOVER, 


25 


ing  that,  wishing  most  of  all,  perhaps,  that  he  was  on 
board  the  "  Enterprise,"  far  away  from  his  native  shores. 
To  him  presently  came  Molly,  whispering,  as  she  thrust 
a  little  package  into  his  hand,  "  When  she  comes  out,  go 
and  put  this  under  the  candlestick,  and  fetch  me  the 
one  that 's  there  now." 

"  What !  What 's  in  this  ?  "  demanded  the  young 
man,  a  cold  dew  springing  upon  his  forehead,  and  his 
lips  turning  white. 

"  Rye  meal,  you  silly  fellow  !  Do  you  think  I 'd  hurt 
Bathsheba  ?  "  demanded  the  girl,  leaning  toward  him, 
until  her  sweet  breath  intoxicated  him,  and  he  grasped 
at  her  hand,  murmuring,  — 

«0h,  Molly!" 

"  Hush !  She  '11  be  back  in  a  minute.  Do  as  I  tell 
you,  and  we  '11  have  hours  to  ourselves  —  hush !  " 

And  as  the  old  woman  reappeared,  the  girl  was 
placing  the  trenchers  upon  the  dresser  at  the  other  side 
of  the  room. 

"  How  is  Bathsheba  now  ? "  inquired  Ansel,  rising 
hastily  from  his  bench  in  the  chimney  corner,  a  feverish 
light  in  his  eyes,  but  a  strange  pallor  upon  his  cheek. 

"Sything  and  moaning,  poor  wench,"  replied  the 
mother  tremulously.  "  Go  and  speak  a  comfortable  word 
to  her,  Ansel,  boy.  And  get  you  to  bed,  Molly  Peach ; 
there 's  naught  for  you  to  do  in  there  to-night,  nor  here 
neither." 

"  I 'm  going,  mother,  but  I 'd  fain  toast  my  feet  a  bit 
first,"  replied  the  girl  mildly,  as  she  took  possession  of 
the  chimney  corner  seat,  and,  removing  her  ill-shapen 
shoes,  thrust  her  feet  out  toward  the  smouldering  logs. 

Even  mother  Crewe  could  say  nothing  against  so  usual 
a  proceeding,  and;  with  one  malevolent  gls^nce  at  the 


26      DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


golden  head  glittering  against  the  sooty  background  of 
the  chimney,  she  returned  to  the  bedroom,  meeting 
Ansel  in  the  door. 

"  She 's  sleeping,  I  think,"  said  he  softly. 

"  Go  down,  Ansel,  and  draw  a  jug  of  cider  to  keep 
awake  on,  for  we  two  are  to  watch,  lad,  you  and  me. 
And  if  you  fancy  an  apple  or  two,  they  're  there  in  a 
kilderkin,  all  I  Ve  got,  all  the  poor  old  tree  bore,  — 
poor  old  tree,  —  poor  old  woman,  —  but  1 11  watch,  I  '11 
watch  my  gal — 

Muttering  and  mowing,  she  wandered  back  to  the 
bedside,  and  Ansel  hurriedly  tossed  the  powder  into 
Molly's  lap. 

"  You  're  sure  there 's  no  danger  for  Bathsheba  ? 
What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  whispered  he  hoarsely. 

"  Get  the  cider  quick,  quick !  "  returned  the  girl ;  and 
as  the  bewildered  youth,  seizing  a  stone  pitcher  and  the 
candle,  disappeared  down  the  ladder  into  the  rough  cave 
serving  as  a  cellar,  Molly,  in  her  stocking  feet,  stole 
swiftly  to  the  dresser  and  brought  back  a  small  iron 
vessel  which  she  called  a  skillet,  and,  hastily  wiping  it 
out,  shook  the  stolen  powder  into  it.  In  a  moment  the 
light  of  the  candle  showed  that  Ansel  was  returning, 
and  the  girl  quietly  went  to  meet  him,  holding  the  skillet 
toward  the  light. 

"  Put  some  cider  in  there,  and  warm  it,  with  a  little 
molasses  and  a  scrape  of  nutmeg,"  said  she  softly. 
"  Mix  the  powder  in  well,  and  give  it  to  the  old  woman. 
She  '11  sleep,  and  I  '11  come  down  and  sit  with  you." 

"  Oh  —  that 's  what  —  but  Molly  —  Bathsheba  "  — 

"  She  '11  sleep  well  enough  without  it,"  replied  Molly 
coldly.  "  But  if  you  don't  care,  I  don't,  —  do  as  you 
like." 


BATHSHEBA  CREWE'S  LOVER, 


27 


And  with  a  toss  of  her  golden  head  she  snatched  the 
candle  and  disappeared  up  the  stairs  to  the  loft,  leaving 
the  skillet  on  the  dresser. 

"  Has  n't  that  hussy  gone  yet  ?  What  was  she  saying  ? 
Why  do  you  look  so,  boy  ?  "  demanded  the  old  woman 
tottering  across  the  room  and  peering  into  that  white 
and  guilty  face. 

"I  —  I  don't  know.  She  snatched  my  candle  and 
was  off  so  sudden  I  thought  there  was  something 
wrong  "  — 

"  Well,  she 's  gone,  and  you  and  me 's  to  watch,  An- 
sel, —  you  and  me.  Have  a  drink  of  cider,  and  give 
me  some,  boy,  for  I 'm  all  of  a  chill,  somehow." 

"  I  '11  warm  you  some,  if  you  say  so,  mother  ;  just  as 
you,  say  though,  —  just  exactly  "  —  And  the  poor  tool 
turned  to  the  dresser,  and  laying  a  hand  upon  the  skillet 
paused  for  the  oracle  he  had  invoked. 

"  Yes,  yes,  warm  me  a  drop,"  said  the  old  woman 
eagerly  ;  "  it  '11  be  comforting.    Warm  me  a  drop." 


CHAPTER  IV. 


JUDAS. 

It  was  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  that  dreary  time, 
that  dying  time,  when  earth  has  lost  the  vitalizing  in- 
fluence of  yesterday's  sun,  and  has  not  yet  caught  the 
first  promise  of  the  coming  day ;  the  time  when  to  the 
insomnist  comes  the  true  torture  of  wakefulness,  and 
when  the  weary  watcher  finds  sleep  most  imminent  be- 
cause strength  most  wasted ;  the  hour  when  sorrow  is 
sorest  and  trouble  most  carking ;  the  hour  when  many  a 
life  loses  hold  of  the  things  that  are  seen,  and  drifts  out 
into  the  shadowy  ocean  of  the  unseen. 

Waking  from  the  uneasy  doze  that  ill  supplied  the 
place  of  sleep,  Bathsheba  Crewe  turned  painfully  upon 
her  pillow,  moaning,  "  Water  !  —  water !  " 

No  one  replied,  although  the  soft  sounds  of  whisper- 
ing voices  disturbed  the  stillness,  and  as  the  sick  girl 
tried  to  move  she  was  aware  of  a  weight  across  her  feet 
and  the  sound  of  heavy  breathing  close  at  hand. 

Painfully  raising  her  head,  she  made  out  by  the  dim 
light  the  figure  of  her  mother  thrown  across  the  foot  of 
her  bed,  asleep  and  breathing  stertorously ;  but  unable 
to  arouse  her,  and  exhausted  with  the  effort,  Bathsheba 
fell  back  again,  repeating,  "  Water !  Oh,  give  me 
water !  " 

And  still  the  sleeper  never  stirred,  and  still  between 
the  heavy  sounds  of  her  breathing  came  that  faint  mur- 
mur of  whispering  voices  beyond. 


JUDAS. 


29 


For  a  white  the  girl  lay  listening  vaguely  in  the 
drowsy  indifference  of  fever,  but  suddenly  a  tone  louder 
than  the  rest,  her  own  name  spoken  in  her  lover's  voice, 
drew  her  to  a  startled  consciousness  of  her  surroundings, 
and  dragging  herself  to  the  edge  of  the  bed  she  peered 
out  through  the  open  door  into  the  kitchen  beyond, 
j,  The  sight  that  met  her  eyes  was  as  the  sting  of  the  lash 
to  an  exhausted  horse,  and  thrusting  her  head  still 
further  out  of  the  bed,  to  which  she  clung  with  a  strength 
no  one  could  have  believed  latent  in  those  attenuated 
hands,  she  looked  and  listened  eagerly. 

Side  by  side  upon  the  chimney  bench  sat  the  false 
lover  and  false  friend,  their  arms  entwined,  her  head 
upon  his  shoulder,  the  bright  hair  fallen  from  its  coil 
and  trailing  down  serpent-wise  across  his  breast,  his 
head  bent  upon  hers.  A  little  tongue  of  blue  flame 
shooting  up  from  the  buried  log  at  their  feet  shed  fitful 
light  upon  the  picture,  and  as  it  rose  and  fell,  the  golden 
serpent  trailing  across  both  evil  hearts  seemed  to  writhe 
m  joy. 

Preternaturally  sharpened,  the  sick  girl's  ears  caught 
enough  of  that  whispered  talk  to  guess  the  rest :  they 
loved  each  other ;  they  rebelled  against  the  fate  that 
bound  him  to  one  he  pitied,  but  loved  no  more  ;  they 
longed,  —  it  was  the  girl  who  said  it,  but  the  man's 
silence  consented,  they  longed  that  she  should  die  and 
leave  them  free,  or,  as  Ansel  feebly  amended,  that  she 
should  recover,  and  see  that  it  was  not  best  to  hold  him  to 
his  word.    But  at  this  temporizing  Molly  flared  out :  — 

"  Don't  try  to  cheat  yourself,  Ansel !  She  '11  never 
give  you  up  till  she  gives  up  life.  You  '11  never  be 
happy  till  she 's  dead." 

The  man  made  no  reply,  but  stirred  uneasily,  and  that 
glittering  snake  athwart  his  breast  gleamed  joyously. 


80      DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


How  long  the  tragedy  went  on  no  one  now  can  tell, 
but  it  was  cut  short  by  a  terrible  interruption ;  for  of  a 
sudden  a  tall  white  apparition,  black  hair  flowing  around 
a  ghastly  face,  and  great  dark  eyes  flaming  feverishly 
from  deep  caverns  of  woe,  stood  before  them,  one  long 
pale  hand  extended,  while  from  the  lips,  blue  and  life- 
less as  if  already  dead,  burst  the  one  word  — 

"Judas!" 

Then  swaying  back  and  forward,  like  a  tree  smitten 
through  the  heart,  the  murdered  girl  fell  crashing  to 
the  floor,  and  from  the  bedroom  staggered  the  old 
mother,  not  yet  fully  awake,  and  threw  herself  upon  the 
body  of  her  child  with  suffocating  cries  of  mingled  grief 
and  wrath.  Shrieking  wildly,  Molly  Peach  started 
from  her  lover's  side  and  fled  out  into  the  night,  while 
he,  his  manhood  roused  at  that  piteous  sight  of  dying 
daughter  and  stricken  mother,  ran  to  raise  them  and  do 
what  yet  remained  possible  of  his  forgotten  duty  to  both. 

A  few  hours  later.  Dr.  Lazarus  LeBaron,  riding 
quietly  along  the  road  from  Goodman  Ryder's,  and 
thinking  of  the  placid  sleep  in  which  he  had  left  that 
aged  Christian  in  the  hope  of  a  joyful  waking  in  the 
Great  Day,  was  startled  at  sight  of  a  woful  and  dishev- 
eled figure,  with  a  scared  face  set  in  unkempt  yellow 
hair,  rising  from  beneath  a  clump  of  bushes  at  the  way- 
side. 

"  Molly  Peach !  "  exclaimed  he  sternly.  "  What  brings 
you  here,  girl  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Doctor  LeBaron,  I 'm  so  sorry  —  it  was  n't  my 
fault  —  and  I 'm  so  sick  and  frightened,  and  I  don't 
dare  go  back  to  that  old  witch,  and  will  you  take  me 
home  to  Plymouth  behind  you  ?  I  don't  care  for  a  pil- 
lion nor  anything,  only  help  me  get  away  from  here." 


JUDAS. 


31 


She  was  crying  and  wringing  her  hands,  and  very 
honestly  in  trouble ;  but  Doctor  LeBaron  looked  coldly 
upon  her  for  a  moment,  and  then  said  :  — 

"  I 'm  going  to  mother  Crewe's.  You  can,  if  it  suits 
you,  follow  me  there,  and  I  will  then  answer  your  peti- 
tion according  to  what  I  hear." 

As  he  spoke  he  touched  Pegasus  with  his  heel  and 
rode  on.  The  girl,  drying  her  eyes,  looked  venomously 
after  him  for  a  moment,  then,  arranging  her  dress  a  lit- 
tle, walked  on  with  an  air  of  determination,  and  before 
noon  reached  Plymouth,  footsore  and  weary,  but  obsti- 
nate. 

Arriving  at  the  Crewe  cabin,  the  doctor  softly  raised 
the  latch  and  went  into  the  forlorn  kitchen,  where  the 
fireless  hearth,  the  candle  burned  down  in  its  socket, 
the  cheerless  table  and  shuttered  windows,  made  a  pic- 
ture of  squalid  desolation,  fair  sequel  of  the  night's  ad- 
venture. From  the  bedroom  came  the  sounds  of  fierce 
sobs,  mingled  with  muttered  imprecations  and  passion- 
ate appeals  to  one  who  made  no  reply. 

Throwing  open  the  windows  and  door,  to  admit  the 
morning  light,  the  doctor  passed  into  the  bedroom,  and 
stood  aghast,  for  half  upon  the  floor  and  half  upon  the 
bed  lay  the  unconscious  form  of  the  sick  girl,  while  be- 
side it,  closely  clasping  the  rigid  limbs,  knelt  her  mother, 
with  gray  hair  falling  in  elf-locks  around  her  shoulders, 
and  grimy  face  seamed  and  furrowed  with  tears  torn 
from  the  very  life-springs  in  a  torrent  of  passionate 
emotion. 

"  What  is  this  ?  What  has  happened,  mother  !  Here, 
let  me  lay  this  poor  girl  decently  upon  her  bed.  What 
has  happened  since  I  was  here,  and  where  are  the 
others  ?  " 


32      DK  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


Suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  the  doctor  easily 
raised  the  skeleton  form  of  the  poor  old  crone,  and  seat- 
ing her  in  an  armchair,  where  she  passively  remained, 
wringing  her  hands  and  moaning,  he  laid  Bathsheba 
upon  the  bed,  put  his  hand  over  her  heart,  looked  at  her 
eyes,  and  felt  of  her  extremities. 

"  She 's  not  dead,  but  could  scarce  be  nearer,"  pro- 
nounced he.  I  want  hot  water,  mustard,  aqua  vitae  — 
but  where  is  —  nay,  where  is  Ansel,  where  is  any- 
body?" 

And  throwing  all  the  coverings  he  could  find,  over 
the  lifeless  body  of  Bathsheba,  the  doctor  hastened  out 
to  his  saddlebags  to  bring  some  spirits  and  other  re- 
storatives, without  which  he  never  traveled. 

Returning,  he  cast  an  eye  upon  the  empty  fireplace, 
and  to  his  great  astonishment  perceived  the  figure  of  a 
man  seated  upon  the  hearth,  his  head  laid  upon  the  arm 
he  had  folded  on  the  chimney  bench,  and  actually  fast 
asleep.  It  was  Ansel  Ring,  who,  driven  from  the  bed- 
room by  the  fierce  invective  of  that  wolf-like  mother 
mourning  over  the  body  of  her  injured  nursling,  had 
thrown  himself  upon  the  hearth,  and  consistently  with 
his  weak,  passionate  nature,  had  sobbed  himself  to  sleep. 

Rousing  him  with  a  thrust  of  his  foot,  the  doctor  per- 
emptorily bade  him  get  the  fire  to  burning,  and  heat 
.^ome  water  as  soon  as  might  be,  adding  that  what 
chance  of  life  was  left  to  Bathsheba  Crewe  hung  mostly 
upon  the  speed  with  which  remedies  could  be  made 
ready. 

"  She 's  not  dead,  then !  "  quavered  the  wretched  fel- 
low, avoiding  the  doctor's  gaze. 

"  Not  quite.  Don't  stop  for  questioning,  but  do  as  I 
tell  you."    And  the  doctor  returned  to  the  bedroom  to 


JUDAS. 


33 


pour  his  cordials  down  the  lifeless  throat,  to  chafe  the 
temples,  the  hands  and  wrists,  and  to  listen  anxiously  for 
some  response  from  the  poor  broken  heart,  while  the 
old  mother,  at  his  direction,  feebly  rubbed  the  icy  feet, 
and  in  a  rasping  voice,  broken  by  sobs  and  curses, 
told  the  story  of  the  night,  so  far  as  she  knew  or  sur- 
mised it. 

"  The  water  is  hot  now.  Doctor,"  announced  Ansel 
timidly,  and  the  croaking  voice  rose  in  wild  maledi^J" 
tion. 

"  Get  out  of  my  house  and  out  of  my  hearing,  you 
hound ! "  screamed  the  old  woman  ;  but  as  the  white 
face  of  the  youth  disappeared,  the  doctor  sternly  said  : 

"  Look  you  here,  mother  Crewe !  This  girl's  life 
hangs  on  the  balance.  Let  Ansel  Ring,  or  for  that 
matter  Molly  Peach,  do  all  that  they  can  to  help  me,  or 
I  cannot  bring  her  back.  Wait  for  your  anger  till  your 
child  cannot  be  harmed  by  it." 

"  I  '11  wait.  Never  another  word  will  I  speak  to 
either  Judas  till  you  say  it's  safe,"  promised  the  old 
woman  promptly ;  and  the  doctor,  knowing  she  was  to  be 
trusted,  took  courage,  and  calling  Ansel  gave  directions 
for  a  bath  and  other  matters  to  be  made  ready. 

"  If  Molly  Peach  is  outside,  bid  her  come  in  and  help 
you,"  added  he  coldly ;  but  as  we  know,  Ansel  sought  in 
vain  for  the  late  companion  of  his  treachery,  and  moved 
by  remorse,  shame,  and  the  competing  influence  of  two 
severe  gray  eyes,  proved  himself  so  efficient  and  willing, 
that  with  what  help  the  old  woman  could  give,  matters 
were  soon  in  train,  and  in  an  hour  or  two  from  the  doc- 
tor's arrival  Bathsheba  lay  much  as  she  had  lain  the 
day  before,  very  weak  and  low,  but  alive  and  quite  con* 
scious. 


34    DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


Leaving  her  thus,  with  many  charges  to  his  two  un» 
trusty  assistants,  the  doctor  mounted,  and,  urging  Peg- 
asus to  unwonted  speed  presently  found  himself  again 
at  the  Samson  homestead,  where  Mary,  warned  by 
Simeon's  eager  outcry,  met  him  upon  the  step. 

"  Good-morrow,  dame.  No,  I  am  in  too  much  haste 
to  enter.  I  want  you  to  do  a  deed  of  neighborly  charity, 
and  go  to  mother  Crewe's  as  soon  as  may  be." 

"  Oh,  Doctor,  I 'm  loath  to  say  you  nay  "  — 
You  can't  say  me  nay,  woman  !  'T  is  life  or  death 
for  Bathsheba  Crewe,"  interrupted  the  doctor  positively ; 
and  then  in  curt  phrases  he  related  so  much  as  was 
necessary  of  the  past  night's  work,  and  set  forth  the 
present  emergency. 

"I  think  the  girl  will  die,"  said  he  in  conclusion. 
*'But  what  chance  is  left  to  her  lies  between  now  and 
this  time  to-morrow,  and  that  chance  I  put  into  your 
hands,  Mary  Ring,  and  remember  that  Ansel  is  your 
own  brother's  son." 

"  Good  land,  Doctor,  you  need  n't  take  my  head  off 
to  get  me  to  go  and  save  a  girl's  life  !  "  cried  Mistress 
Samson,  rather  angrily,  as  she  began  to  untie  her 
checked  apron,  and  glanced  hastily  at  her  short  home- 
spun skirts  and  tidy  foot-gear. 

"  The  only  reason,"  added  she,  her  indignant  mood 
lapsing  into  perplexity,  "  I  kind  of  doubted  about  it  is, 
that  mother  Samson  and  Priscilla  Fuller  —  she  that 's 
my  man's  twin,  you  know,  and  he 's  dreadful  fond  of 
her,  Peleg  is  —  they  've  come  to  spend  the  day,  and  "  — 

"  Ail  the  better,"  broke  in  the  doctor.  "  They  will 
look  after  the  house,  and  widow  Fuller  will  have  a 
special  care  of  baby  Priscilla,  her  namesake.  But  if 
Peleg's  mother  is  here  I  will  step  in  and  speak  to  her, 


JUDAS. 


35 


for  her  grandsire's  sake.  Captain  Myles  Standish  is  an 
ancestor  to  be  proud  of,  let  me  tell  you,  dame." 

"  So  Peleg  is  always  saying  and  telling  his  boys,'* 
replied  the  hostess,  well  pleased,  as  she  ushered  her 
guest  into  the  house.  "  There 's  nothing  suits  him  bet- 
ter than  to  sit  of  an  evening  alongside  his  mother,  and 
get  her  to  tell  over  the  old-time  stories  she  got  from  her 
father." 

"  Her  father  would  remember  his  father,  old  Mylesj, 
very  clearly,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  he  was  a  man  grown  when  the  old  cap- 
tain died.    Here 's  mother." 

"  Good-morrow  to  you,  Mistress  Samson  !  I  came  in 
on  purpose  to  salute  you,  madam." 

And  the  doctor,  with  a  certain  foreign  grace  of  man- 
ner inherited  from  his  father,  stooped  and  kissed  the 
cheek  of  a  beautiful  old  woman,  with  soft  white  hair 
and  wonderful  blue  eyes,  who  came  forward,  dropping 
her  formal  little  "  curtsey,"  and  smiling  graciously  ;  — 
a  tiny  little  old  lady,  for  the  Standishes  are  small  of 
stature,  but  mighty  of  spirit ;  and  this  granddaughter  of 
the  great  captain  had  ruled  her  house  and  her  family 
and  herself,  both  wisely  and  strongly,  all  her  life  long 
until  to-day,  when,  with  her  seventieth  birthday  behind 
her,  she  stood  straight  and  active  among  her  children 
and  grandchildren,  and  planned  their  duties  for  them. 

"  We  heard  what  you  were  saying  to  Mary,  Doctor," 
began  she,  when  the  first  greetings  were  over,  "  and  it 
seems  to  me  better  that  my  daughter  Fuller  here,  who 
is  a  wonderful  good  nurse,  and  has  neither  chick  nor 
child  to  hinder  her,  should  go  and  take  care  of  the  sick 
girl  as  long  as  she  needs  care,  while  Peleg's  wife  could 
only  stay  a  short  season  at  any  rate,  having  her  own 


36    DE.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


duties  to  look  after.  So  Priscilla  shall  go  as  soon  as 
Tom  Silver-head  can  put  the  saddle  on  our  old  white 
mare  again." 

"  Yes,  yes,  that  is  by  far  the  best  way  to  manage  it, 
madam.  I  know  what  a  famous  nurse  widow  Fuller  is, 
and,  as  you  say,  she  has  no  other  ties  if  you  can  spare 
her." 

"  I  can  spare  her  as  well  as  she  can  spare  me,  Doctor 
LeBaron,"  replied  the  old  lady  a  little  stiffly.  "My 
children  have  never  had  to  stay  or  to  go  on  my  ac-- 
count  yet.  As  for  poor  Lyddy,  you  know  for  your- 
self, sir,  how  she  would  have  fared,  if  it  had  not  been 
for  her  mother." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  madam  ;  and  how  is  Lydia  now  ?  " 

"  Lively  as  a  cricket,  Doctor.  She 's  gone  to  spend 
the  day  with  cousin  Peddy's  girls  ;  they  've  got  an 
apple-bee  at  their  house,  and  Lyddy  must  be  there  to 
help." 

"  Ah,  these  girls  !  "  exclaimed  the  doctor,  smiling  in 
the  depths  of  his  heart,  remembering  that  Lydia  had 
passed  her  fortieth  birthday ;  and  then,  as  stirring  Pris- 
cilla Fuller  came  clattering  down  the  stairs  in  her  hood 
and  riding- jacket,  and  Silver-head  Tom  brought  the  old 
white  horse  to  the  door,  the  doctor  mounted  Pegasus 
and  rode  swiftly  home. 


CHAPTER  V. 


THE  doctor's  den. 

Deep  in  reverie,  Dr.  LeBaron  rode  steadily  on, 
hardly  noting  the  familiar  objects  upon  the  roadside, 
until  Pegasus  halted  so  suddenly  and  decidedly  upon 
the  brink  of  a  bright  little  stream  bordering  the  way 
.as  nearly  to  throw  his  rider  over  his  head. 

"  What  —  whoa  —  oh,  't  is  Cold  Spring,  and  you  '11 
not  pass  it,  Master  Pegasus,  save  under  stress  of  whip 
and  spur !  Well,  then  "  —  and  the  doctor,  leaping  lightly 
to  the  ground,  suffered  the  horse  to  thrust  his  muzzle 
into  the  sun-warmed  waters  where  he  had  paused,  and 
then,  leading  him  some  twenty  feet  further  to  the  spot 
where  the  spring  bubbled  out  cold  and  clear  from  be- 
neath a  great  rock,  he  picked  up  the  clam-shell  care- 
fully laid  in  a  clean  spot,  and  emptied  it  again  and 
again. 

"  Ah  !  "  exclaimed  the  doctor,  with  a  long  expiration 
of  joyous  breath,  as  he  replaced  the  clam-shell  and 
swung  himself  into  the  saddle,  " 't  is  a  good  draught, 
Pegasus,  none  better,  —  that  is,  when  none  better  may 
be  had !  " 

And  smiling  at  his  own  conceit,  LeBaron  rode 
merrily  on,  until  just  before  entering  the  town  he  came 
upon  a  saucy-looking  young  negro  perched  on  a  rail 
fence  and  munching  an  apple. 

At  sound  of  a  horse's  feet  he  rolled  his  great  eyes 


38    DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


lazily  around,  but,  recognizing  the  rider,  made  haste  to 
jump  from  his  roost  into  the  field,  just  in  time  to  avoid 
a  whistling  cut  from  the  doctor's  riding  wand. 

"  Quash  !  You  lazy  black-skin !  Did  n't  I  tell  you 
yesterday  if  I  caught  you  idling  again  I 'd  give  you  a 
whipping  ?  " 

"  Lord,  yes,  mas'r  Doctor,  and  I  had  n'  no  fawts  o' 
idling  —  o'  course  I  had  n\" 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that,  you  imp  of  darkness, 
when  I  caught  you  at  it  ?  " 

"Didn'  cotch  me,  mas'r.  Look  yere,  mas'r,  didn' 
you  tell  me  eberybody  got  to  wuk,  quality  same  as 
niggers  ?  " 

Yes  — weU?" 

"  Well,  mas'r,  did  n'  I  ask  you  dat  time  wat  wuk 
mas'r  Doctor  did,  an'  mas'r  Parson  Leonard,  an'  "  — 

"  Well,  well,  I  told  you  we  did  head-work,  and  you 
did  hand-work  ;  but  what 's  all  that  to  do  with  it  ?  " 

"  W'y,  mas'r  Doctor,  I  faut  dat  I 'd  jes  like  ter  try 
changin'  wuks,  jes'  a  leetly  bit,  an'  I  was  doin'  head- 
wuk  a-settin'  top  o'  dat  ar  fence  w'en  mas'r  come 
along  and  kind  of  misunderstooded  wat  I  was  about." 

"  Got  clear  of  your  whipping  this  time.  Quash,  you 
sinner,"  replied  the  doctor,  with  an  expectant  smile. 
"  What  was  the  head-work,  boy  ?  " 

"  W'y,  mas'r,  I  was  jes'  a  clim'in'  ober  de  fence,  goin' 
fer  pull  termits,  same  as  mas'r  tole  me,  and  fus'  ting  I 
see  was  four  five  leetly  sparrers  a-pickin'  up  grub-worms 
out  'n  de  hills.  So  jes'  den  I  kinder  lighted  outer  a 
apple  dat  was  a-layin'  round,  an'  I  sez  to  myself :  — 

"  *  'Hi,  den,  Quash,  s'pose  you  frow  de  core  o'  dat  apple 
right  'mongst  dat  leetly  crowd  o'  birds,  one,  two,  t'ree, 
fo',  five  of  'em,  an' s  posin  you  hit  two  o'  dem,  how 


THE  DOCTORS  DEN. 


39 


many 'd  be  lef  ? '  Now  how  many  does  you  make  it, 
mas'r  Doctor?" 

"  Two  out  of  five  leaves  three,  according  to  my  arith- 
metic, Quash,"  replied  the  doctor  carelessly ;  "  what  does 
your  wisdom  say  ?  " 

"  Well,  masV,  I  s'pose  you 's  right;  any  ways,  't ain't 
likely  a  pore  nigger  do  head-wuk  same  as  a  ge'man  ; 
but  de  way  I  was  reck'nin'  was  dat  dey 'd  all  fly  away, 
an'  dere  wouldn't  be  so  much  as  one  leetly  fedder  lef. 
But  you  see,  mas'r,  I  had  n'  got  de  apple  eat  off  de  cere, 
so  I  had  n'  had  a  chance  to  fling  it  'fore  mas'r  come 
along." 

"  Quash !  Cut  me  a  good  stick  from  that  birch  tree, 
and  come  here." 

"  Lordy,  mas'r,  you  ain't  a-goin'  ter  lick  pore  nigger 
boy  f  er  not  knowin'  no  better,  be  you,  mas'r  ?  " 

"  If  I  don't,  it 's  only  because  I 'm  in  too  great  a  hurry, 
you  rascal ;  but  look  out  for  the  next  time,  sir  "  — 

"  Oh,  mas'r,  I  clean  forgot  fer  tell  you  dat  ar  arrant 
from  Miss  Lyddy  "  — 

"  An  errand  from  Miss  Lydia !  Now  see  here.  Quash, 
you  '11  get  that  whipping  yet,  if  you  're  so  careless.  What 
is  your  errand,  sirrah  ?  " 

"  W'y,  Miss  Lyddy,  she  tell  me  to  kinder  wander  out 
t'orst  Kingston,  an'  w'en  I  see  mas'r  Doctor  comin',  tell 
him  to  hurry  long  good,  'cause  young  mas'r  Laz'ruff 
come  last  night  from  Barbadoes,  an'  fetch  a  young 
ma'am,  Marg'et." 

"  Lazarus  come,  and  brought  a  wife ! "  echoed  the 
doctor,  in  astonishment. 

"  Jes'  so,  mas'r.  Dat  w'at  Miss  Lyddy  say  tell  mas'r 
Doctor." 

Without  reply,  the  doctor  touched  Pegasus  with  the 


40      DR.  LeBARON  and  EIS  DAUGHTERS. 


whip  so  often  idly  menacing  Quasho,  and  hastened  for- 
ward, leaving  the  slave  to  chuckle  rapturously  over  his 
own  skill,  to  eat  another  apple,  pull  a  few  turnips,  and 
finally  to  saunter  home  to  an  abundant  dinner ;  for  the 
slavery  of  Massachusetts  was  actually  the  benignant  and 
patriarchal  institution  so  loudly  claimed  farther  south, 
at  a  later  day. 

Riding  rapidly  past  the  widow  Cushman' s  house,  with 
only  one  sidelong  look  at  its  empty  windows,  the  doc- 
tor was  reluctantly  halted  before  a  substantial  mansion, 
whose  site  is  now  occupied  by  Davis  Hall.  It  was  the 
house  built  by  Francis  LeBaron  for  his  bride,  Mary 
Wilder,  almost  fifty  years  before ;  it  was  the  birthplace 
of  his  three  children,  and  had  until  lately  been  the  home 
of  Francis,  his  youngest  son,  whose  widow,  sister  of  Doc- 
tor Lazarus'  first  wife,  now  stood  forth  to  intercept  him. 

"  What  is  it,  Sarah  ?  I 'm  in  haste,"  demanded  the 
doctor  impatiently,  for  he  was  not  fond  of  his  doubly 
related  sister-in-law,  and  liked  her  all  the  less  that  she 
was  about  to  marry  Joseph  Swift,  and  carry  the  old 
house  out  of  the  family. 

"  Why,  I  wanted  to  tell  you,  Lazarus,  that  your  boy 
Lazarus  has  got  home  from  Barbadoes,  and  brought  a 
wife  and  two  or  three  blacks,  and  "  — 

"  In  that  case,  I  had  best  get  home  myself,  and  take 
some  order  in  the  matter,"  interposed  the  doctor  with  a 
smile,  and  touching  his  cocked  hat  with  a  gesture  which 
Sarah  LeBaron  suspected,  and  perhaps  not  unjustly,  of 
mockery,  he  rode  on. 

A  few  rods  further  brought  Pegasus  to  the  end  of 
Main  Street,  and  nearly  opposite  to  a  large  gambrel- 
roofed  and  somewhat  imposing-looking  house,  built  in 
1703  by  Doctor  Francis  LeBaron,  who  just  as  it  waa 


THE  DOCTOR'S  DEN. 


41 


completed  went  to  occupy  a  very  narrow  and  quiet 
dwelling  upon  Burying  Hill,  leaving  this  estate  to  his  son 
Lazarus.  A  big  meetinghouse  now  covers  its  site,  but 
more  interesting  discourses  still  come  out  of  the  phantom 
walls  of  the  old  than  the  visible  inclosure  of  the  new 
building. 

Pegasus,  feeling  that  he  was  master  of  the  situation, 
stiffened  his  neck,  quickened  his  gait,  and  resistlessly 
bore  round  the  eastern  corner  of  the  house,  and  down  a 
narrow  driveway  to  his  stable  in  the  rear,  where  both 
Pompey  and  Prince,  Quasho's  co-laborers,  stepped  for- 
ward to  take  the  bridle,  with  a  grin  of  welcome. 

Two  more  black  fellows  lay  sprawling  in  the  sunshine, 
upon  the  barn  floor,  but  the  doctor,  only  glancing  at  them 
enough  to  see  that  they  were  strangers,  and  that  he  had 
interrupted  a  luxurious  gossip,  made  his  way  into  the 
house.  As  he  opened  the  kitchen  door,  he  paused  in 
dismay,  for  Pandemonium  and  Babel  are  hard  for  a 
quiet  man  to  encounter,  without  some  long  breath  of 
preparation.  The  great  kitchen,  and  not  only  that,  but 
the  sitting-room  beyond,  as  could  be  seen  through  the 
open  door,  seemed  full  of  men,  women,  children,  negro 
servants,  and  little  dogs,  while  a  great  green  parrot, 
chained  to  a  perch  in  the  window,  was  shrieking  pro- 
fanity and  maniacal  laughter  to  the  extent  of  his 
powers. 

"  There 's  father  !  Children,  hush  !  Lazarus,  here 's 
father !  Hannah  and  Teresa,  stop  that  noise  !  Mary,  do 
pick  up  Bartlett !  Joseph,  throw  something  over  the 
parrot !  Sister  Margaret,  can't  that  black  woman  of 
yours  carry  your  baby  upstairs  for  a  little  ?  " 

"  Lydia,  you  seem  to  be  the  only  responsible  person 
left  in  the  house,'*  suggested  the  doctor,  rather  severely  ; 
"  your  brothers  and  sisters  are  all  distraught." 


42    DR.  leBaron  and  his  daughters. 


"  My  duty  to  you,  father !  "  exclaimed  a  blithe  voice, 
while  a  slighter,  milder  copy  of  the  doctor's  own  marked 
personality  extricated  himself  from  the  crowd,  and  came 
forward  with  extended  hand. 

"  Glad  to  see  you,  son  Lazarus,"  replied  the  father, 
cordially  taking  the  proffered  hand,  but  looking  past  the 
young  man  at  a  pallid,  dark-eyed  girl,  who  timidly  ap- 
proached, with  a  half  smile  upon  her  sweet  lips. 

"  And  this  is  my  wife,  Margaret,  father,"  added  the 
young  man,  turning  to  take  her  hand  and  convey  it  to 
that  he  still  held.  "  There  has  never  been  the  opportu- 
nity of  writing  to  tell  you  of  my  marriage,  until  of  late, 
and  so  I  thought  best  to  come  myself  and  show  you  my 
fair  excuse." 

"  I  did  not  know  there  had  been  so  strange  a  check  of 
communication  with  Sent  Luzee,  in  the  last  year  "  — 
began  the  doctor. 

"  Oh,  I  beg  pardon,  but  I  have  been  gone  from  there 
this  six  months.  Peter  Newsome,  Margaret's  father,  of- 
fered me  a  fair  opening  for  practice  "  — 

"  Well,  well,  we  shall  have  time  to  speak  of  all  that, 
my  boy,  and  need  not  keep  your  wife  waiting  just  now," 
interposed  the  father,  courteously  bowing  to  the  new- 
comer. "  You  are  very  welcome,  daughter  Margaret,  and 
Lazarus  shall  be  pardoned  some  inattention  to  his  father, 
if  he  does  not  neglect  his  wife." 

He  drew  her  nearer,  and  kissed  the  smooth,  creamy 
cheek,  through  which,  at  the  salute,  a  rich  color  glowed. 

"  I  thought  she 'd  be  my  best  excuse,  sir,"  said  the 
proud  young  husband.  "  And  Flora,  bring  lilly  mas'r 
here.  There,  father,  there 's  your  namesake ;  there 's 
Lazarus  number  three  !  " 

The  grinning  negress,  resplendent  in  her  bandana 


THE  DOCTOIVS  DEN, 


43 


turban  and  Turkey-red  cotton  gown,  drew  near,  and,  as 
she  held  her  nursling  up  to  his  grandfather's  grave  in- 
spection, it  was  pretty  to  see  the  likeness  in  unlikeness 
of  the  three  Lazarus  LeBarons,  and  mark  how  all  repro- 
duced the  features  of  Francis,  the  founder  of  their  house. 

"  A  fine  little  lad,  a  sturdy  boy,"  said  the  elder,  lightly 
touching  the  child's  brow,  "and  I  shall  see  more, both 
of  him  and  his  mother,  later ;  just  now,  I  will  ask  you 
for  a  little  breakfast,  Lydia,  and  then  must  visit  some 
sick  folk  hereabout.  Have  there  been  any  calls,  Jo- 
seph?" 

Joseph,  a  young  fellow,  not  yet  twenty-one,  but  study- 
ing medicine  with  his  father,  and  acting  as  his  assistant, 
was  about  to  reply,  when  his  sister  Mary,  a  sprightly  girl, 
just  entering  her  teens,  suggested  with  elaborate  inno- 
cence :  — 

"  You  were  called  to  Parson  Leonard's  last  night,  you 
know,  Joe,  and  had  to  stay  till  the  nine  o'clock  bell 
rang." 

"  Is  any  one  sick  at  the  parson's  ?  "  began  the  doctor, 
but  seeing  the  angry  color  flash  up  into  Joseph's  face, 
and  catching  the  flicker  of  mischief  in  Mary's  blue  eyes, 
the  father  closed  his  lips  rather  tightly,  and  left  the 
room  to  go  to  his  own  private  den.  For  this  was  the 
age  of  parental  reserve  and  of  filial  reverence,  and  had 
Mary  LeBaron's  mother  been  alive,  and  the  family  in 
the  bands  of  strict  discipline,  she  would  never  have 
dared  to  jest  in  her  father's  presence,  even  upon  so 
tempting  a  theme  as  her  brother's  courtship. 

Something  of  this  the  doctor  felt  as  he  strode  through 
the  hall  and  mounted  the  shallow  stairs,  with  their 
carved  balusters  and  rail,  'mported  by  his  father  from 
England. 


44     DR,   LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


"  Yes,"  muttered  he,  taking  the  key  of  his  study  from 
a  pocket  in  the  long-flapped  waistcoat  showing  far  be- 
neath the  claret-colored  riding-coat  still  buttoned  across 
his  chest,  "  yes,  they  need  a  mother,  Lyddy  as  well  as 
the  young  ones,  and  the  house  cries  out  for  a  housewife 
—  it  is  no  self-seeking  folly  "  — 

And  then  the  doctor  stood  and  looked  thoughtfully 
around  the  dingy  back  room  into  which  he  had  locked 
himself ;  a  very  unattractive  room  to  most  observers, 
with  sad-colored  walls,  broken  only  by  a  torn  and 
patched  map  of  Europe,  and  some  rude  shelves  holding 
a  few  French  books,  a  score  or  so  of  leather-covered 
medical  works,  with  about  half  as  many  choice  volumes 
of  Homer  and  some  of  the  Latin  poets,  daintily  bound 
in  white  and  gold  vellum,  and  bringing  their  price  even 
then  in  the  Dutch  and  German  marts  whence  they  came. 
To-day  they  would  be  priceless. 

Above  the  high  mantelshelf  with  its  plated  candle- 
sticks and  snuffers,  not  ranked  then  as  ornaments,  but 
articles  of  homely  necessity,  was  tacked  a  piece  of  red 
cloth,  called  harrateen,  left  over  from  covering  the  seats 
of  the  best  bedroom  chairs,  and  stolen  by  the  doctor 
while  his  wife's  back  was  turned,  much  to  her  bewil- 
derment. 

If,  however,  disembodied  spirits  are  allowed  to  return 
and  fulfill  the  unsatisfied  aspirations  of  this  life,  sure  it 
is  that  Lydia  Bartlett,  mother  of  the  seven  children  we 
have  just  encountered,  had  long  ere  this  crept  through 
the  keyhole  into  this  forbidden  chamber,  whose  interior 
she  had  never  in  the  flesh  beheld. 

And,  granting  tliis  possibility,  one  can  imagine  the 
satisfaction  with  which  she  would  exclaim  in  her  new 
tongue,  "  If  there  is  n't  my  piece  of  crimson  harra- 
teen ! 


THE  DOCTORS  DEN. 


45 


No  doubt,  also,  this  gentle  ghost  would  curiously  ex- 
amine the  relics  to  which  the  harrateen  formed  a  back- 
ground, —  a  silver  spoon  with  a  perfectly  round  bowl, 
a  broken  ring  empty  of  its  gem,  and  a  pair  of  tiny  bal- 
ances, the  scales  and  beam  of  chased  silver,  and  the  cords 
of  green  silk ;  the  weights  lay  beneath  in  the  round-cor- 
nered tortoise-shell  case  that  had  traveled  many  a  mile, 
some  fifty  years  earlier,  in  the  pocket  of  Francis,  father 
of  Lazarus  LeBaron.  A  little  lock  of  light  brown  hair 
lay  in  one  of  these  scales  upon  a  bit  of  paper  whereon 
was  written  the  one  word  Faith ;  the  other  was  weighed 
down  by  a  silver  penny,  beneath  which  was  written 
Lucre. 

The  hair  was  his  father's,  the  faith  was  his  mother's, 
and  the  Queen  Anne  penny  represented  the  comfortable 
property  of  that  mother's  second  husband. 

It  was  a  neat  little  epigram,  kept  by  the  doctor  for 
his  own  private  enjoyment,  unless  indeed  poor  Lydia's 
ghost  had  ere  this  wondered  feebly  over  it. 

For  the  rest,  the  room  contained  a  large  table  crowded 
with  papers,  memorandum  books,  a  great  wooden  ink- 
stand supporting  a  thicket  of  quill  pens,  a  pounce  box, 
some  wax  and  a  taper,  various  specimens  of  drugs  in 
various  stages  of  preparation,  some  vials,  and  the  name- 
less litter  of  a  student's  table ;  disorderly,  to  be  sure,  but 
scrupulously  neat,  for  no  woman  ever  yet  excelled  Laza- 
rus LeBaron  in  this  feminine  virtue. 

A  great  leather-covered  armchair  was  placed  at  the 
end  of  the  table  nearest  to  the  fireplace,  while  a  piece  of 
homespun  carpet  and  a  footstool  suggested  cozy  visions 
of  a  pair  of  slippered  feet  propped  upon  the  stool  and 
toasting  their  soles,  as  eyes  of  dreamy  content  watched 
the  flames  flaring  up  the  wide  chimney,  and  the  fra- 


46     DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


grance  of  cedar  logs  and  pitch-pine  and  bayberry  twigs 
floated  through  the  room.  At  the  corner  of  the  hearth 
stood  a  clay  furnace,  a  box  of  charcoal,  some  crucibles, 
and  a  small  still,  while  on  shelves  above  lay  retorts,  and 
various  glass  utensils  of  strange  shape  and  air,  brought 
home  from  Holland  by  the  doctor,  and  never  exhibited 
either  to  his  family  or  his  townsmen. 

There  were  those  who  whispered  that  "the  French 
doctor "  had  bequeathed  to  his  son  uncanny  secrets 
bordering  upon  art  magic  ;  that  the  herbs  he  so  care- 
fully culled  in  the  fields,  or  cultivated  in  the  lush 
garden  stretching  down  behind  his  house  to  the  Town 
Brook,  were  components  of  the  Elixir  Vitse  whose  for- 
mula the  doctor  was  always  striving  to  reproduce.  They 
said  that  he  sought  for  the  Philosopher's  Stone ;  they 
said  all  the  things  their  forefathers  had  said  in  the 
beginning,  of  Faustus,  and  Grandier,  and  Galileo,  and 
many  another  man  too  learned  and  too  reticent  for  the 
comprehension  of  his  neighbors.  Lucky  was  it  for  Laz- 
arus LeBaron  that  he  lived  in  an  age  when  these  begin- 
nings of  gossip  had  ceased  to  lead  to  any  deadly  end, 
and  were  perhaps  rather  an  advantage  than  a  danger  to 
their  object. 

None  the  less  was  the  student  very  careful  of  allow- 
ing any,  even  the  nearest  and  dearest  of  his  household, 
to  inquire  too  curiously  into  the  occupations  or  the  in- 
struments confined  within  those  sacred  walls,  and  it  was 
no  doubt  some  resolution  to  continue  this  reserve  that 
formed  itself  in  the  man's  mind,  as,  leaning  an  elbow 
on  the  mantelshelf,  his  eyes  wandered  from  the  relics 
upon  their  harrateen  background  to  the  crucibles  at  his 
feet. 

"  No,  my  dear,  you  '11  never  come  in  here !  "  muttered 
he,  with  a  slow,  serene  smile. 


THE  DOCTORS  DEN, 


47 


A  broad  leather  -  covered  sofa,  or  settee,  as  it  was 
called,  stood  against  the  wall  opposite  the  windows,  and 
now  served  as  the  doctor's  nightly  couch ;  for  since  his 
wife's  death  he  had  given  up  the  great  northeast  cham- 
ber to  his  four  daughters  and  baby  son ;  the  other  front 
bedroom  was  a  guest-chamber  ;  and  Joseph  with  Lazarus 
before  he  went  away  had  occupied  the  fourth  room,  a 
rambling  barrack,  out  of  which  a  curious  low-browed 
door  led  into  the  slave  quarters,  where,  in  two  little  bed- 
rooms over  a  joyous,  disorderly  kitchen,  Pompey  with 
Phyllis  his  wife.  Prince,  a  fine  stalwart  young  fellow, 
and  Quasho,  already  introduced,  feasted,  laughed,  and 
slept  in  great  peace  and  contentment. 

But  now  Lazarus,  who  a  couple  of  years  before  had 
gone  forth  to  seek  his  professional  fortunes  in  the  West 
Indies,  had  come  home  in  the  double  dignity  of  married 
man  and  guest,  and  must  be  promoted  to  the  spare 
chamber.  Let  us  pause  a  moment  to  inspect  it.  Behold 
an  imposing  room,  with  both  bed  and  window  curtains 
as  well  as  chair  bottoms  of  the  famous  crimson  harra- 
teen ;  a  "  chist-of -draws,"  such  as  is  nowadays  called  a 
chiffonier,  (a  name  not  more  correct,  and  not  nearly  so 
expressive  as  the  old  one),  made  of  black  walnut  tree 
wood,  a  rare  and  precious  material  in  those  days  when 
no  white  man  knew  that  it  grew  abundantly  in  our  own 
Western  States,  or  could  have  brought  home  more  than 
his  own  back-load  if  he  had ;  a  tall  spindle-legged  toilet 
table,  also  furnished  with  drawers,  many  and  compli- 
cated, and  covered  with  white  fringed  dimity,  stood  be- 
tween the  front  windows,  with  a  mirror  above  it,  the 
carved  and  gilded  wooden  frame  representing  a  twining 
rose-stem,  finished  at  the  top  with  a  cluster  of  blossoms 
and  foliage.  The  doctor  had  himself  bought  this  in  Paris, 


48    DR,  leBaron  and  his  daughters. 


whither  he  went  before  his  first  marriage,  and  it  was 
respectfully  looked  upon  not  only  by  his  own  household, 
but  by  all  his  townsfolk. 

The  painted  and  polished  floor  of  this  stately  bower 
was  partly  covered  by  a  square  of  English  carpet,  and 
the  fireplace  was  surrounded  by  Dutch  tiles  represent- 
ing with  minute  fidelity  various  Scriptural  scenes  ;  upon 
the  red  sandstone  hearth  were  arranged  a  ponderous 
fender,  andirons,  and  fire  set,  all  of  brass  and  polished 
like  the  sun.  A  fire  artistically  laid  with  backlog,  top- 
log,  forestick,  lightwood,  and  kindlers,  with  shavings 
invitingly  peeping  out  to  welcome  the  match,  gave 
promise  of  a  comfortable  blaze  by  and  by,  which  should 
dispel  the  chill  and  forbidding  atmosphere  of  this  closed 
room,  which,  truth  to  tell,  had  proved  a  little  overwhelm- 
ing in  its  heavy  grandeur  to  Margaret,  the  young  wife, 
who  in  her  tropical  home  had  never  seen  a  fireplace  or 
its  furnishing,  a  carpet,  or  even  so  much  as  a  suit  of  har- 
rateen  curtains.  Nay,  even  the  feather  bed  with  its  su- 
perincumbent sack  of  eider  down,  which  when  warmed 
by  the  body  rose  gradually  in  stifling  billows  of  irrita- 
ting heat  around  the  sleeper,  was  a  surprise  and  a  terror 
to  her,  accustomed  as  she  was  to  simply  a  sacking  with 
one  linen  sheet  fastened  tightly  over  it,  and  another  to 
use  as  the  only  covering. 

Furthermore,  this  enormous  pile  of  feathers  and  down 
was  heaped  with  English  blankets,  a  crimson  quilted 
spread,  and  more  of  that  horrible  eider  down,  tacked 
into  a  puff  made  of  two  old  brocade  dresses. 

No  wonder  Lazarus  the  younger  found  his  Barbadoes 
wife  in  tears  when  he  followed  her  to  that  sombre  guest- 
chamber,  on  the  night  of  their  arrival,  and  was  obliged 
to  reassure  her  with  many  tender  jests  and  caresses. 


THE  DOCTOR'S  DEN. 


49 


The  doctor's  reverie  has  lasted  quite  through  this 
long  digression,  and  might  have  lasted  longer  but  for 
a  timid  tap  on  the  door. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  demanded  he  impatiently. 

"  It 's  me,  father,  and  "  — 

^'  Say  '  It 's  I,  father,'  if  you  please,  Lydia,  before  you 
go  on." 

"  It 's  T,  father,"  responded  Lydia  meekly,  although 
so  small  a  store  of  meekness  went  to  her  composition 
that  she  reserved  it  all  for  filial  use.  "  And  I  came  up 
to  tell  you  that  two  of  the  selectmen,  Squire  Lothrop 
and  Mr.  James  Warren,  are  below,  seeking  you." 

"  I  hope  you  put  them  in  some  other  place  than  that 
Bedlam  I  found  you  in,"  remarked  the  doctor,  without 
opening  the  door  ;  and  Lydia,  always  meekly,  replied  :  — 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  put  them  in  the  northwest  parlor." 

"  They  won't  want  to  stay  long  in  that  chilly  room," 
muttered  the  host,  and,  waiting  until  he  heard  Lydia's 
steps  upon  the  stairs,  he  cast  one  regretful  look  around 
his  study,  and  followed  her,  locking  the  door  and  put- 
ting the  key  in  his  pocket. 

The  northwest  parlor,  where  the  visitors  stood  await- 
ing their  host,  was  a  room  of  even  sterner  majesty 
than  the  best  bedroom,  inasmuch  as  a  long  mirror  at 
either  end  reflected  its  chilly  dignity,  and  multiplied  to 
infinity  the  square  mahogany  table,  the  eight  great 
chairs  covered  in  scarlet  morocco,  the  rosewood  case 
standing  open  to  display  the  handles  of  twelve  knives 
and  twelve  forks  made  of  solid  silver,  not  the  poor  shells 
one  may  so  cheaply  buy  to-day,  the  two  penitential  "  loll- 
ing-chairs,"  whose  straight  backs,  long  legs,  and  slippery 
leather  seats  were  a  satire  upon  their  name,  the  floor 
painted  and  varnished  like  polished  white  marble,  and 


60     DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


the  square  of  Turkey  carpet,  coming  just  inside  the  legs 
of  the  chairs,  stiffly  ranged  around  the  room.  The  only 
spot  offering  a  timid  hope  of  comfort  was  the  fireplace, 
where  shone  a  magnificent  copper  set  of  andirons,  with 
shovel,  tongs,  and  poker  all  elaborately  tipped  with 
lion's-heads.  But  although  the  chimney-back,  itself  an 
heraldic  casting,  was  blackened  by  the  genial  blaze  of 
bygone  fires,  it  was  to-day  painfully  cold  and  clean,  and 
the  two  men  leaning  on  either  end  of  the  high  mantel- 
piece, with  its  decoration  of  conch  shells  and  some  curi- 
ous bits  of  glass  and  china,  looked  as  chill  and  miserable 
as  the  complimentary  mourners  at  a  winter  funeral. 

"Ugh!  "  shivered  the  doctor,  giving  his  hand  to  each 
with  cordial  grasp.  "  This  room  is  worse  than  out-of- 
doors.  Come  into  the  other  room,  gentlemen,  where, 
though  there  may  be  some  disorder  {here  is  also  a  fire." 

He  turned  and  laid  his  hand  upon  the  brass  thumb- 
latch,  bright  and  cold  as  ice ;  but  Isaac  Lothrop  stepped 
forward,  and  said  in  a  voice  of  mysterious  meaning,  — 

"  Nay,  Doctor  !  The  weather  is  not  yet  so  very  cold, 
and  some  matters  are  best  treated  behind  closed  doors  ; 
surely  a  little  chill  is  not  to  be  set  against  our  duty  of 
warding  off  the  fires  of  hell." 

"  Surely  not.  Judge  Lothrop,"  replied  the  doctor, 
with  a  faint  gleam  of  humor  in  his  eyes.  "  But  where  do 
these  fires  threaten  to  break  out,  in  our  little  town  ?  " 

"  James  Warren  can  tell  you,  and  as  his  house  is  but 
across  the  way  from  Consider  Rowland's  "  — 

"  Your  own  is  as  near.  Judge,"  interrupted  Warren, 
pleasantly.  "  But  to  make  the  matter  short.  Doctor,  both 
Lothrop  and  I  have  marked  how  a  certain  strapping 
young  fellow,  calling  himself  master  and  part  owner  of 
the  schooner  Dolphin,  trading  coastwise  for  the  most 


THE  DOCTOR'S  DEN. 


61 


part,  makes  Plymouth  his  principal  port  of  entry, 
whithersoever  his  charter  party  may  lay  the  voyage." 

"  Yes,  my  son  Lazarus  came  but  now  passenger  in 
the  Dolphin  from  Barbadoes,"  said  the  doctor.  "  He 
spoke  of  Captain  Hammatt  as  a  pleasant  fellow  and 
good  navigator." 

"He  did!"  exclaimed  Lothrop.  "That  is  well,  and 
to  the  purpose.  We  knew  that  Lazarus  came  by  the 
Dolphin,  and  it  was  partly  to  have  his  opinion  of  the 
young  man  that  we  are  here." 

"  But  what  has  Hammatt  done  amiss,  or  why  does 
the  town  take  order  with  him  ?  "  demanded  the  doctor. 

"  That  is  the  very  matter  in  hand.  Speak  out,  War- 
ren, and  tell  what  has  come  under  your  eyes." 

"Well,  nothing  so  very  unheard  of."  And  genial 
James  Warren  smiled  good-naturedly,  in  spite  of 
Lothrop's  magisterial  frown,  while  the  doctor's  gleam  of 
satiric  humor  answered  the  smile. 

"  I  was  standing  idly  by  the  window  in  my  study, 
which,  as  you  know,  looks  across  North  Street  to  Con- 
sider Howland's  house,  on  the  opposite  corner ;  and  as 
the  casement  lay  open,  I  saw  this  Hammatt  standing 
with  his  arm  around  the  waist  of  Mistress  Lucy  How- 
land  ;  and  as  I  still  looked,  in  some  bewilderment,  for 
the  maiden  is  reputed  as  good  as  she  is  fair  "  — 

"  Nay,  she  is  very  brown,  like  all  the  Howlands,"  in- 
terposed the  doctor  whimsically,  and  Warren  indulged 
in  a  constrained  smile,  as  he  replied  :  — 

"  You  have  reason.  Doctor.  '  Black  but  comely,'  if  one 
may  quote  "  — 

"  Pardon  me,  brethren,  but  are  not  we  rather  straying 
from  the  record  ?  "  interrupted  the  judge  dryly.  "  As 
you  looked  in  at  the  open  casement  of  Mr.  Howland's 
house,  you  saw  "  — 


y.  OF  ILL  lib: 


52     DE.  LeBARON  and  EIS  DAUGHTERS, 


"  I  saw  Captain  Hammatt  put  his  arm  around  Lucy 
Rowland's  waist,  and  kiss  her  heartily,  and  more  than 
once,"  replied  Warren  succinctly. 

"  And  did  the  maid  resist  ?  "  inquired  the  doctor,  re- 
pressing a  smile. 

"Nay,  I  marked  not  that  she  did.  In  very  truth,  I 
withdrew  from  the  window,  feeling  myself  in  a  dishonor- 
able  position." 

"  Why,  yes,  one  does  not  willingly  enact  the  part  of 
Peeping  Tom  of  Coventry.  And  what  is  your  purpose 
in  this  matter,  Judge  ?  " 

"  To  ascertain  at  once  whether  the  young  man's  views 
are  honorable,  and  whether  Master  Rowland  is  cognizant 
of  these  proceedings,"  replied  Lothrop  promptly.  "  I 
for  one  am  not  minded  to  give  in  to  the  sinful  laxity  of 
morals  and  the  weakening  of  discipline  that  marks  our 
day.  I  hold  with  those  who  have  gone  before,  that  the 
fathers  of  a  community  are  set  to  watch  as  them  who 
must  give  account,  over  the  doings  of  those  in  their 
charge ;  and  I  opine  that  it  is  our  duty,  as  selectmen  of 
this  town  of  Plymouth,  to  assure  ourselves  of  the  charac- 
ter and  purpose  of  every  stranger  who  sets  foot  within 
our  limits,  and  to  take  heed  that  no  wolf  creeps  in  to 
molest  our  lambs." 

"  Surely,  surely  !  "  exclaimed  the  doctor,  more  gravely, 
as  his  mind  reverted  to  his  own  motherless  girls,  es- 
pecially handsome  and  headstrong  Lydia,  Lucy  Row- 
land's great  friend  and  confidante.  "  I  agree  with  you, 
Judge  Lothrop,  and  am  right  glad  you  will  take  some 
steps  to  sustain  the  purity  and  order  of  our  town.  What 
measures  do  you  propose  ?  " 

"  To  summon  the  young  man  and  woman  before  my 
justice  court,  and  admonish  them,"  replied  Lothrop 


THE  DOCTOR'S  DEN. 


53 


severely,  but  Warren,  mild  and  indulgent  as  his  wont, 
shook  his  head, 

"  Nay,  brother,  that  seems  to  me  an  extreme  measure 
for  the  first.  Let  us  remember  the  fable  of  the  furious 
blast,  which  only  caused  the  traveler  to  wrap  his  cloak 
more  tightly  round  him,  while  under  the  warmth  of  sun- 
shine he  willingly  cast  it  off.  I  would  in  turn  suggest  that 
our  good  doctor  here,  who  is  the  family  physician  of 
the  Howlands,  should  make  a  friendly  visit,  and  in 
course  of  talk  with  Consider  should  tell  him  what  has 
been  seen  — 

"  Nay,  Master  Warren,  but  I  have  seen  nothing,  and 
so  can  tell  nothing,"  interrupted  the  doctor  decidedly. 
"It  is  for  you  who  have  spied  this  unholy  sight  to  de- 
scribe it  to  our  friend  Consider,  and  bear  the  brunt  of 
the  tempest  that  shall  surely  break  upon  your  head." 

"  'Sider  hath  a  fiery  temper,"  remarked  Warren 
meditatively. 

"  Then,  since  you  gentlemen  find  me  too  hard,  and 
I  must  think  you  far  too  soft,  suppose  we  all  go  together 
and  investigate  this  matter,"  suggested  Lothrop,  with  a 
little  impatience.  "  Come,  Doctor,  get  on  your  hat,  and 
we  will  move  at  once." 

"  May  I  beg  five  minutes'  grace  while  I  swallow  some 
meat  and  drink,  for  none  save  a  draught  of  milk  and  a 
bannock  at  Plympton  has  passed  my  lips  to-day.  And 
let  me  offer  you  both  a  glass  of  wine  or  aqua  vitse ;  it 
must  be  near  eleven  o'clock." 

"  A  little  past,"  replied  Warren  with  a  smile.  "  We 
found  many  of  our  friends  at  the  Bunch  of  Grapes  as 
we  came  up  the  street,  and  joined  Josiah  Cotton  and 
some  of  the  rest  in  a  glass  of  bitters,  so  no  more  iox 
me." 


54       DEL  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


"  Ever  a  temperate  man,  Warren ;  and  you,  Judge,  are 
almost  too  much  so  for  your  own  good.  Follow  Paul's 
advice  to  Timothy,  my  friend,  and  do  not  ill  treat  your 
stomach.    It  is  your  best  friend." 

"  Why,  if  my  doctor  orders  me  to  do  so,  I  can  but 
obey,"  replied  the  judge,  relaxing  his  grave  visage  to  a 
smile.    "  And  yet  no  more  just  now,  I  am  obliged  to 

you." 

"  Well,  then,  I  will  be  at  Master  Warren's  in  a  quarter 
of  an  hour,  if  that  suits  you  both,"  and  the  doctor  has- 
tened with  numbed  fingers  to  open  the  hall  door  and 
ceremoniously  attend  his  guests  to  the  top  of  the  steps. 

"  I  am  so  glad,  father,  that  they  are  gone,  for  you 
will  be  starved  with  cold  and  hunger,"  said  a  voice  be- 
hind him,  as  Lydia  peeped  out  of  the  sitting-room  door. 
*^  See,  all  is  ready  for  you." 

"  Ah,  that  looks  pleasant !  "  exclaimed  her  father, 
striding  over  to  the  fireplace,  and  seating  himself  in  the 
roundabout  leather-bottomed  chair  drawn  up  beside  a 
little  table  laid  with  a  very  comfortable  breakfast,  or 
rather  lunch. 

A  steaming  tankard  of  spiced  ale,  with  a  roasted 
crab -apple  bobbing  up  and  down  upon  its  frothy  sur- 
face, was  the  central  ornament,  and  the  doctor  took  a 
hearty  draught  with  the  eagerness  of  a  chilled  and  hun- 
gry man. 

'^Ah,  that  is  comfortable,  Lyddy,"  said  he,  rubbing 
his  hands  over  the  fire,  and  munching  a  slice  of  warm 
gingerbread.  "  And  what  have  you  done  with  the  mob 
that  was  here  but  now  ?  " 

"  I  sent  them  all  different  ways  before  I  made  ready 
for  you,"  replied  Lydia,  with  the  air  of  one  who  knew 
what  she  did  and  how  to  do  it.  Margaret  and  little 
Lazarus  "  — 


THE  DOCTORS  DEN, 


65 


"  Call  him  the  child,  or  the  baby,  or  what  you  will ; 
only  do  not  din  my  own  name  into  my  ears  perpetu- 
ally, or  I  shall  grow  to  loathe  it,"  exclaimed  the  doc- 
tor more  irritably  than  he  often  spoke,  and,  with  a  hasty 
good-by,  he  snatched  up  his  hat  and  left  the  house. 

His  tall  fair  daughter  went  to  the  window  and 
watched  him  down  the  street.  A  handsome  young  wo- 
man, as  all  men  allowed,  with  the  grand  figure  and  bear- 
ing of  her  sires,  and  with  a  peculiar  creamy  velvety 
complexion,  richly  but  not  deeply  tinted  with  the  red  of 
a  peach's  sunny  cheek  ;  her  eyes,  bluer  than  her  father's 
and  very  bright,  had  perhaps  a  little  too  much  of  the 
same  keenness  and  criticism,  and  at  times  accented  too 
strongly  the  somewhat  haughty  curve  of  the  nose  and 
lips.  A  woman  to  gallantly  hold  her  own  whether  for 
right  or  wrong,  and  command  respect  whether  she  won 
love  or  not. 

"  He  does  n't  like  to  have  his  grandson  called  Laza- 
rus," murmured  she,  watching  her  father's  back,  in  its 
claret-colored  coat  and  cocked  hat,  with  the  black-tied 
cue  beneath.  "Is  it  that  he  would  not  have  Lazarus 
married  ?  Is  it  Margaret  —  no,  she  is  so  pretty  all  men 
must  like  her.  Is  it  —  yes,  yes,  it  is  a  grandchild,  and 
he  not  yet  an  old  man.  Perhaps,  —  why,  yes,  —  what 
more  like  than  that  he  should  marry  again  !  And  how 
hard  I  have  tried  to  make  home  homely  for  him !  " 

"  S'pose  I  take  dese  yer'  things  'way.  Miss  Lyddy," 
suggested  a  cheerful  voice  at  her  back,  and,  turning 
sharply,  Lydia  confronted  a  portly,  genial-faced  negress, 
dressed  in  a  homespun  check  petticoat-and-short-gown, 
with  a  portentous  turban  on  her  head,  and  a  string  of 
Guinea-gold  beads  around  her  neck. 

"  Yes,  take  them  away,  Phyllis,  and  lay  the  table  for 
dvnner.    It  must  be  near  noon." 


66     DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


"  Sun  jes'  a-crapin'  roun'  to  de  noon-mark  on  de 
phial,  Pomp  sez,"  replied  Phyllis,  with  an  air  of  impor- 
tance. 

"  Dial !  Dial,  Phyllis  !  How  often  I  Ve  told  you  that ! 
And  what  have  you  got  those  beads  on  for  ?  They  look 
very  absurd  with  your  working  clothes  ;  I  suppose  you 
want  to  show  off  before  Mr.  Laz'rus's  servants." 

"  'Pears  like  you  could  n'  nebber  bear  to  see  dese  yer' 
beads,  Miss  Lyddy,  dough  you  knows  well  'nough,  chile, 
dat  I  airnt  em  honest,  wif  de  venters  mas'  doctor 
'lowed  me  to  make  in  mas'  Watson's  schooner  "  — 

"  There,  there,  don't  stand  talking,  and  don't  be  im- 
pertinent.   Of  course  the  beads  are  your  own  "  — 

"  Spec's  if  dey  was  Miss  Lyddy's  own,  she 'd  like  de 
looks  ob  'em  better,"  grumbled  the  negress  as  she 
flounced  away  with  her  tray,  but  her  young  mistress 
had  turned  back  to  the  window,  and  deep  in  reverie 
seemed  to  hear  nothing. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


THE  LASS  THAT  LOVED  A  SAILOR. 

To  understand  how  Mr.  James  Warren  and  Squire 
Jyothrop  were  both  of  them  in  a  position  to  overlook  the 
domestic  affairs  of  Consider  Howland's  house,  it  is  nec- 
essary to  know  something  of  the  topography  of  Plym- 
outh. 

The  Main  Street  of  the  village,  then  as  now,  was  a 
short  straight  bit  of  highway,  its  southern  end  opening 
on  Leyden  Street,  where  stood  Dr.  LeBaron's  house 
nearly  opposite  this  opening.  Proceeding  north,  a  few 
doors  from  the  corner  where  Governor  Bradford's  house 
had  once  stood,  one  arrived  at  the  Bunch  of  Grapes 
tavern,  a  genial  hostelry  built  in  the  Dutch  fashion, 
with  the  upper  story  projecting  some  eighteen  inches 
over  the  lower,  and  ornamented  at  either  corner  with  a 
great  pendulous  bunch  of  grapes  carved  in  wood,  a  de- 
vice as  suggestive  of  the  good  cheer  within  as  the 
"  bush  "  of  olden  times. 

Still  trending  north,  Main  Street  stopped  in  a  vague, 
confused  sort  of  way  in  an  open  space,  now  called  Shir- 
ley Square,  whence  opened  a  road  pursuing  the  same 
direction,  variously  called  the  Kingston  Road,  the  Bos- 
ton  Way,  the  King's  Highway,  and  nowadays  Court 
Street ;  for  at  its  westerly  side  lies,  as  we  have  seen, 
the  Great  Gutter,  now  become  Court  Square,  for  the 
sufficient  reason  that  the  Court  House  stands  at  its  head. 
On  the  corner  of  this  road  and  this  square  stands  a 


68     DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


goodly  brick  mansion  upon  the  site  of  that  earlier  house 
where  pretty  widow  Cushman  sat  and  pondered  smil- 
ingly her  doctor's  last  advice. 

Returning  to  Shirley  Square,  we  find  another  short 
straight  street  opening  from  its  lower  or  eastern  side, 
and  running  down  to  the  water's  edge  and  around 
Cole's  Hill,  where  slept,  and  still  sleep,  the  Pilgrims  in 
their  undistinguishable  graves,  with  the  gray  Rock  be- 
tween them  and  the  water. 

This,  now  called  North  Street,  was  then  generally 
known  as  Rowland  Street,  most  of  the  land  upon  its 
northern  side  remaining  in  possession  of  the  grandchil- 
dren and  great-grandchildren  of  the  Pilgrim  John,  to 
which  latter  category  belonged  Consider  Rowland,  whose 
house  and  grounds  formed  the  upper  northern  corner. 
On  the  opposite  corner,  facing  on  Main  Street,  stood  a 
great  gambrel-roofed  colonial  structure,  built  by  that 
Colonel  John  Winslow  just  now  fighting  for  Great 
Britain  in  the  West  Indies,  and  leading  poor  Peleg 
Samson  into  great  fatigues  and  dangers.  But  as  a 
soldier  who  is  also  a  widower  does  not  need  a  big  colo- 
nial house,  the  colonel,  before  leaving  home,  sold  his 
Plymouth  property  to  his  brother-in-law,  James  Warren, 
husband  of  handsome,  haughty  Penelope  Winslow. 

Forming  a  triangle  with  these  two  houses,  as  it  stood 
on  the  other  side  of  Shirley  Square  facing  the  head 
of  North  Street,  was  a  large  and  imposing  mansion 
owned  and  occupied  by  Colonel,  or  Judge,  or  as  he  v/as 
familiarly  called,  Squire  Lothrop,  who,  standing  upon  his 
front  doorsteps,  could  look  down  North  Street  and  his 
own  new  wharf  at  its  foot  to  the  sea  beyond,  or  into  the 
windows  of  his  neighbors  Warren  or  Rowland,  as  the 
fancy  seized  him.   In  fact,  very  little  could  or  did  occur 


THE  LASS  THAT  LOVED  A  SAILOR,  59 


in  either  house  without  becoming  matter  of  friendly  in- 
terest to  the  inmates  of  the  other  two,  —  an  interest  oc- 
casionally resulting  in  action,  as  in  the  present  instance. 

An  appreciation  of  this  position  crossed  the  mind  of 
Lazarus  LeBaron,  while  he  stood  for  a  moment  with 
the  great  brass  latch  of  Warren's  door  in  his  hand  and 
looked  about  him ;  and  the  smile  in  his  eyes  passed  to 
his  lips,  when  he  saw  the  door  of  the  Lothrop  house 
open,  and  the  worthy  magistrate,  in  his  broad-skirted 
red  camlet  coat,  flapped  waistcoat,  black  velvet  breeches, 
capacious  silk  stockings,  and  buckled  shoes,  descend  the 
steps  and  cross  the  square  as  nimbly  as  a  great  regard 
for  his  own  dignity  would  allow. 

"  I  saw  you  from  my  window,  Doctor,  and  came  at 
once,  for  we  have  little  time  to  spare  before  the  noon 
bell  strikes.    Ah,  here  is  brother  Warren  ! 

"Yes,  I  chanced  to  be  looking  out  o'  window  and 
saw  you  both,"  said  Warren  simply,  whereupon  the 
doctor  took  snuff,  a  great  resource  of  his  when  wishing 
to  conceal  amusement,  or  indeed  any  emotion. 

"  Probably  Master  Rowland  has  seen  us  all  by  this 
time,  and  will  be  awaiting  our  visit,"  said  he  gravely, 
and  led  the  way  across  the  head  of  North  Street  to  the 
old  many-gabled  house,  with  its  wide  low  casements, 
their  little  diamond-shaped  panes  of  greenish  glass  set 
in  lead,  the  upper  story  projecting  over  the  lower,  and 
a  great  chimney  eating  out  the  heart  of  the  house. 

Like  many  of  his  townsmen,  Rowland,  although  as 
gently  born  and  as  well-to-do  as  most,  did  not  disdain 
to  entertain  such  strangers  as  preferred  his  quiet  house 
to  the  noisier  hospitalities  of  the  Bunch  of  Grapes,  and 
in  this  way  young  Rammatt  had  become  an  inmate  of 
the  house,  and  found  opportunity  to  cultivate  pretty 
Lucy's  acquaintance. 


60       DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


The  oaken  door  stood  wide  open,  showing  a  wain- 
scoted hall,  both  deep  and  wide,  and  a  great  rambling 
staircase.  As  the  three  gentlemen  entered  and  hesi- 
tated which  way  to  turn,  for  a  sitting-room  lay  at  either 
side  the  door,  a  portly  figure  emerged  from  the  gloom 
of  the  hall,  and  a  jovial  voice  cried :  — 

"  Welcome,  gentlemen  !  'T  is  not  often  you  come 
neighboring  in  these  days,  but  you  're  heartily  welcome. 
This  way,  this  way !  " 

And  rather  decidedly,  the  master  of  the  house  ush- 
ered his  guests  into  the  left-hand  or  westerly  room. 

"  'T  was  in  the  other  room  I  saw  the  young  folks 
courting,"  whispered  Warren  to  Lothrop,  who  nodded 
judicially. 

"Nay,  Howland,  you  can't  complain  that  I  am  not 
here  often  enough,"  protested  the  doctor  pleasantly. 

'T  was  but  last  week  I  came  to  plaster  up  little  Tom's 
broken  head  ;  and  how  is  he  by  this  time  ?  " 

"He's  well  enough,  the  young  rascal,"  replied  the 
father  carelessly.  "  It 's  not  of  doctor's  visits  I 'm  talk- 
ing now,  however,  but  of  friendly  calls  and  pleasant 
chats.  Why,  we  four  men  were  boys  together  at  school 
not  so  long  since,  and  Master  Sparhawk  flogged  us  all 
impartially,  though  now  I  think  twice  on 't,  I  believe 
James  Warren  seldom  gave  old  Sparhawk  a  chance,  for 
he  was  so  ready  at  his  task  and  so  blameless  in  his  be- 
havior. And  you  too.  Judge,  you  often  went  scot-free, 
just  because  of  the  majesty  of  your  look,  I  fancy.  The 
dominie  was  scared  of  you ;  but  the  doctor  and  I,  —  we 
caught  it,  eh,  Doctor  ?  " 

"  Not  so  much  as  I  would  give  two  such  boys,  if  they 
were  in  my  care  to-day,"  replied  the  doctor  genially, 
while  Master  Howland,  setting  a  square  brass-bound 


THE  LASS  THAT  LOVED  A  SAILOR,  61 


casket  upon  the  table,  threw  it  open,  disclosing  a  trio  of 
high-shouldered  gilt  bottles,  with  three  glasses  to  match 
set  in  sockets  behind  the  bottles. 

^'Now  here  is  a  case  of  Spanish  liqueurs,  boys,  just 
brought  in  by  Captain  Hammatt  of  the  Dolphin,  the 
same  craft  that  fetched  your  boy,  Doctor." 

"Ay." 

"  The  case  has  not  been  broached  yet,  and  you  three 
shall  be  first  to  touch  lips  to  the  three  glasses.  Which 
shall  it  be.  Squire,  —  Maraschino,  Anise,  or  Parfait 
d'Amour?" 

To  refuse  would  in  those  days  have  been  counted  an 
insult,  and  the  three  gentlemen  each  took  a  drop  of 
Anise,  merely  remarking  that  eleven  o'clock  was  past, 
and  dinner  over-nigh  at  hand  to  more  than  taste  strong 
waters. 

"  And  truth  to  tell.  Consider,"  said  Lothrop,  laying 
down  the  little  Dutch  glass,  and  reverting  for  the  mo- 
ment to  habits  of  boyish  familiarity,  "  we  have  come 
to  ask  you  some  questions  which  you  must  take  in  good 
part  as  they  are  meant." 

"  Questions  upon  what  matter  ?  "  demanded  Rowland 
abruptly. 

"  Nay,  now,  man,  take  it  in  good  part,  I  say,  for,  as 
you  claimed  but  now,  we  have  been  boys  together,  and 
still,  I  hope,  are  friends  ;  but  will  you  tell  us  of  your  cour- 
tesy if  this  Captain  Hammatt  of  the  Dolphin  is  court- 
ing your  daughter  Lucy  with  your  knowledge  and  con- 
sent?" 

"  Oh !  I  cry  your  pardon,  gentlemen !  "  exclaimed 
Rowland,  thrusting  the  glasses  back  into  the  case  and 
slamming  down  the  lid,  as  signifying  that  hospitality 
was  no  longer  in  order.    "  Had  you  told  me  that  you 


62     DK  LeBaron  and  bis  daughters. 


came  as  selectnien  to  inquire  into  the  character  of  an 
inn-holder's  guests,  I  would  have  shown  you  more  rev- 
erence and  less  attempt  at  familiarity  "  — 

"  Nay  now,  nay  now,  neighbor,"  interrupted  James 
Warren  pacifically,  ''why  will  you  be  so  jealous  and 
so  peppery  ?  We  come  as  friends  and  old  school-fel- 
lows, and  as  fathers,  careful  for  your  daughter  as  for 
our  own  "  — 

"  Thank  you  for  nothing,  neighbor  ;  I  come  not  spy- 
ing round  to  see  if  Lyddy  LeBaron  and  Ann  Warren 
bear  them  as  modest  maids  should,  and  I 'd  have  you 
know  that  Lucy  Howland  needs  no  more  looking  after 
than  they." 

Why,  surely  not,  nor  did  we  say  it  "  —  began  Judge 
Lothrop,  but  at  that  moment  the  door  of  the  opposite 
parlor  opened  suddenly,  and  a  young  man's  voice  was 
heard  saying :  — 

"  I  '11  be  back  anon,  mistress." 

Howland  strode  to  the  door  of  the  room  where  stood 
his  three  visitors,  and  throwing  it  open  exclaimed :  — 

*'  Here  is  Captain  Hammatt  to  answer  for  himself, 
and  you  too,  Lucy ;  come  you  both  in  here  and  speak 
with  these  dignitaries  who  are  inquiring  after  you." 

A  bold-looking  young  fellow,  dark  of  skin,  with  eyes 
of  that  grayish  hazel  one  finds  in  an  eagle's  head,  and 
with  a  good  deal  of  the  same  intensity  of  gaze  always 
suggestive  of  discernment  and  power,  but  with  a  good- 
tempered  and  pleasant  mouth,  entered  the  room  followed 
by  Lucy  Howland,  a  girl  of  seventeen,  whose  placid 
face  wore  already  the  look  of  calm  intelligence  and 
steadast  courage  which  moulded  her  life. 

"  Here  is  Captain  Hammatt,  gentlemen.  Please  open 
your  business  to  him,"  said  Master  Howland,  withdraw- 


THE  LASS  THAT  LOVED  A  SAILOR.  63 


ing  to  the  back  of  the  room,  and  placing  Lucy^s  hand 
under  his  arm. 

"  At  your  service,  sirs,"  began  the  sailor,  his  eyes 
passing  from  one  face  to  the  other  with  keen  inquisi- 
tion. 

"  Captain  Hammatt,"  returned  Lothrop  formally, 
"  we  are  three  of  the  men  selected  by  this  town  to  keep 
a  fatherly  eye  upon  its  interests,  and  especially  upon  the 
safety  and  good  conduct  of  its  inhabitants  and  its  visi- 
tors. In  that  capacity  we  think  it  right  to  inquire  if 
you  intend  to  make  Mistress  Lucy  Rowland  your 
wife?'' 

The  eagle-like  eyes  flashed  a  little  and  settled  them- 
selves steadily  upon  Lothrop's  face,  but  very  courteously 
the  young  man  replied  :  — 

^'  Mistress  Rowland's  own  father  has  not  thought  fit 
to  ask  me  such  a  question,  and  much  do  I  admire  at  the 
laws  that  empower  any  other  man  to  do  so !  In  Eng- 
land every  man's  house  is  his  castle,  but  in  this  new  coun- 
try you  seem  to  have  found  out  some  better  way.  How- 
beit,  since  you  have  in  a  way  tripped  my  anchor  for  me, 
I  '11  e'en  make  sail  as  best  I  may.  My  intentions  of  mar- 
riage with  this  young  gentlewoman  are  depending  upon 
her  intentions  with  regard  to  me,  and  those  you  have  not 
given  me  sea-room  to  arrive  at  as  I  would,  so  I  must  now 
make  them  out  as  I  can.  Mistress  Lucy,  will  you  take 
me  for  your  bachelor,  and  wed  me  so  soon  as  I  have  some- 
what more  to  offer  you  ?  " 

He  stepped  forward  as  he  spoke,  his  broad-leafed  hat 
in  one  hand,  the  other  extended  toward  the  young  girl, 
whose  comely  face,  from  pale,  grew  rosy-red,  but  drop- 
ping her  father's  arm,  and  modestly  laying  her  hand  in 
that  of  her  lover,  she  answered  in  a  voice  both  still  and 


64     DR.  leBaron  and  his  daughters. 


clear,  "Yes,  Captain  Hammatt,  with  my  father's  and 
mother's  consent,  I  will  be  your  wife  when  you  and  they 
see  fit." 

"  Bravely  spoken,  my  lass,  bravely  said !  "  cried  Con- 
sider Howland,  laying  a  hand  upon  his  girFs  head,  and 
turning  to  look  triumphantly  at  the  three  selectmen,  who 
in  turn  gazed  rather  sheepishly  at  him,  until  Doctor 
LeBaron,  with  a  laugh  that  did  him  credit,  exclaimed  : 

"  Why,  there  now.  Master  Howland,  we  grave  old 
fellows  have  helped  a  very  pretty  little  love-affair  to  its 
crisis,  and  surely  you  are  our  debtors  !  Will  not  you 
once  more  open  that  chest,  and  let  us  each  taste  a  drop 
or  so  of  Parfait  d'Amour  to  the  health  of  the  young 
couple  ?  " 

"  Ay,  old  friend,  so  let  it  be,"  cried  placable  Warren  ; 
and  Judge  Lothrop  silently  extended  his  hand  to  How- 
land, who  seized  and  shook  it  heartily,  while  the  last 
clouds  of  anger  vanished  from  his  choleric  yet  genial 
face,  and  the  toast  was  drunk  in  its  most  appropriate 
cordial  with  such  fervor  that  the  harmony  so  seriously 
threatened  was  restored  to  more  than  its  first  perfection, 
and  the  little  party  separated  at  sound  of  the  noon  bell, 
with  mutual  good  will  and  satisfaction. 


CHAPTER  VIL 


MOTHER  CREWE's  CURSE  AND  ELDER  FAUNCE'S 
BLESSING. 

"  Doctor,  a  word  with  you,  at  your  leisure."  The 
speaker  was  a  tall,  spare  man,  his  gray  hair  falling  upon 
his  shoulders,  and  adding  a  wild  impressiveness  to  his 
gaunt  features  and  gleaming  black  eyes.  He  was  clad 
in  a  suit  of  rusty  black,  and  wore  about  his  throat  a 
white  cravat,  a  good  yard  square  when  unfurled,  while 
his  hat  was  of  the  ungraceful  shape  known  as  "  shovel 
for  this  was  the  Rev.  Nathaniel  Leonard,  pastor  of  Plym- 
outh, where  as  yet  none  had  departed  from  the  faith 
of  the  Pilgrims,  or  spoken  of  such  a  thing  as  division. 

Doctor  LeBaron,  who  was  walking  down  Leyden 
Street,  on  his  way  to  the  wharves,  stopped,  and  cere- 
moniously raised  his  hat,  a  salute  as  punctiliously  re- 
turned by  the  parson,  for  manners  were  not  yet  out  of 
fashion,  any  more  than  brotherly  love. 

"At  your  service.  Dominie,"  said  he  pleasantlyo 
"  Shall  I  come  in,  or  will  you  stroll  down  to  the  water- 
side with  me  ?  I  am  going  to  have  a  look  at  the  Dolphin, 
young  Hammatt's  schooner." 

"  I  will  come  with  you,  if  I  may  fetch  my  walking- 
stick  first." 

"  By  all  means.  I  will  stand  here  and  look  at  your 
new  house,  which,  as  my  nearest  neighbor,  is  an  object 
of  much  interest.  I  never  can  cease  to  admire  the  cour- 
age and  loyalty  you  displayed,  Parson,  in  bringing  all 


66       DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


this  lumber  from  Norton.  It  is  not  every  man  who  can 
carry  his  native  forests  about  with  him  ;  it  is  quite  after 
the  fashion  of  royal  personages,  and  also  of  snails,  neither 
of  which  folk  ever  sleep  out  of  their  own  houses." 

"  Have  your  laugh.  Doctor,''  replied  the  parson,  com- 
ing out  and  closing  the  door ;  then  pausing  in  the  road 
for  an  affectionate  backward  look  at  the  house  standing 
just  above  the  site  of  the  old  Common  house,  first  of 
Plymouth  dwellings,  he  added,  "Verily,  friend,  I  do 
seem  to  conserve  my  native  vigor  and  hopefulness  by 
sheltering  under  Norton  trees.  It  pleases  me  to  lay 
hand  upon  some  stout  beam  in  garret  or  cellar,  and  say, 
'Yes,  we  grew  out  of  the  same  soil,  and  fed  upon  the 
same  air  and  sunshine.'  " 

The  doctor  bestowed  a  rapid  but  strangely  keen 
glance  upon  the  face  of  the  enthusiast,  whose  eyes,  set 
steadily  forward,  seemed  gazing  upon  some  mirage  of 
his  native  forests,  and  then  he  said  :  — 

"  You  had  somewhat  to  say  to  me,  Dominie." 

"  Oh,  ay,  I  remember.  You  know  that  Bathsheba 
Crewe  is  dead  ?  " 

"  Yes,  a  week  or  ten  days  since." 

"  Well,  the  fellow  that  was  to  marry  her,  Ansel  Ring, 
a  sailor-man,  I  believe  "  — 

«  Yes." 

"  He  was  at  my  house  last  night,  and  would  have  me 
publish  the  banns  between  him  and  Molly  Peach,  niece 
of  Goodwife  Jones,  out  toward  Manomet  Ponds.  I  put 
him  off  until  I  should  know  more  of  the  matter,  for  it 
seemed  unseemly  to  me  that  before  one  maid  was  cold 
in  her  grave  he  should  be  so  boldly  wooing  another. 
You  were  the  poor  girl's  physician,  and  doubtless  know 
something  of  the  story.    What  say  you  ?  " 


MOTHER  CREWE'S  CURSE. 


67 


^'  What  say  I  ?  replied  the  doctor  meditatively,  as 
he  paused  with  one  foot  upon  Pilgrim  Rock,  which  he 
tapped  with  his  gold-headed  cane,  while   he  spoke. 

Well,  't  is  hard  to  say,  for  between  them  those  two  were 
the  death  of  that  poor  maid,  buried  no  more  than  a  week 
agone  ;  and  yet  so  mad  are  they  upon  each  other  that  I 
doubt  if  they  are  hindered  of  marriage  they  may  do 
worse.  Certain  it  is  that  each  will  be  the  other*s  best 
punishment." 

"  Nay,  then,  a  justice  marriage  is  good  enough  for 
them.  I  for  one  will  invoke  no  blessing  on  the  heads 
of  such  reprobates.  Let  them  be  published,  and  then 
go  to  Squire  Lothrop  or  some  other  magistrate  to  be 
coupled  up." 

"  Perhaps  that  is  best,"  replied  the  doctor  absently. 
"  'T  is  hard  to  say." 

^'  Talking  of  the  new  wharf,  gentlemen  ?  "  demanded 
a  bluff  voice,  as  a  man  stopped  and  took  off  his  hat  to 
the  parson  and  the  doctor. 

"  Why,  no,  Cook ;  and  yet,  now  you  speak  of  it,  I  re- 
member some  talk  of  it.  Squire  Lothrop  is  going  to 
build  one  here,  I  believe,  as  a  mate  to  that,"  and  as  he 
spoke  the  doctor  pointed  to  the  beginning  of  Long  Wharf, 
with  a  dock  between,  for  the  accommodation  of  his 
boats  and  small  craft." 

"  Yes,  but  here 's  old  Forefather's  Rock,"  said  Cook, 
tapping  it  with  his  foot.  ^'  It  '11  never  do  to  cover  that 
over.  Why,  my  old  gran'ther 'd  rise  out  of  his  grave  to 
hear  of  it." 

"  Your  grandfather,  Josiah  Cook  ?  "  inquired  the  doc- 
tor a  little  superciliously,  or  so  it  seemed  to  Cook,  who 
answered  stoutly :  — 

"Yes,  sir.    My  gran'ther,  Jacob  Cook,  was  son  of 


68       DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


Francis  Cook,  who  came  aboard  the  Mayflower,  one  of 
the  old  ancient  settlers  ;  and  gran'ther,  he  always  said 
how  his  daddy  told  him  that  this  rock  was  what  they 
stepped  onto  when  they  first  landed,  and  afterward, 
when  they  brought  the  women  ashore,  a  maid  called 
Mary  Chilton  was  the  first  to  set  her  foot  on 't.  That 's 
the  way  gran'ther  said,  any  way,  and  if  you  don't  be- 
lieve me,  you  can  go  over  to  Eel  River  and  ask  old 
Elder  Faunce  ;  he  's  got  eddication  and  he 's  an  Elder  in 
the  church,  so  may  be  he  knows/' 

"  No  more  likely  to  than  you,  Josiah,*'  replied  the 
doctor  cordially,  "  and  I  for  one  am  greatly  beholden 
to  you  for  naming  this  matter.  It  would  not  do  for 
the  doorstep  of  the  Pilgrim's  home  to  be  forgotten, 
would  it,  Mr.  Leonard  ?  " 

"  It  seems  to  me  rather  a  fond  and  foolish  thing, 
Doctor  LeBaron,  to  reverence  stones  and  steps,  and 
such  matters.  The  Pilgrims,  as  they  called  themselves, 
were  of  those  who  know  that  here  is  no  abiding  place ; 
they  sought  a  city  that  hath  foundations." 

"  And  still  you  fancy  that  Norton  timber  covers  your 
head  more  pleasantly  than  such  as  is  grown  in  Plymouth, 
Dominie,"  replied  the  doctor,  pulling  out  his  snuffbox, 
and  offering  the  parson  a  pinch  with  a  dry  smile. 

"  But  then  of  course  it 's  not  to  be  expected  that 
them  whose  fathers  did  n't  come  in  the  Mayflower  can 
feel  just  like  them  as  did,"  remarked  Josiah  Cook,  his 
eyes  twisted  up  and  his  head  on  one  side,  as  he  squinted 
across  the  harbor  at  some  moving  object  upon  the  beach. 
"  Guess  Finney's  folks  have  gone  a-plumming,"  added 
he  abstractedly,  as  he  walked  away,  leaving  the  two 
outsiders  to  look  at  each  other  and  laugh. 

"  'T  is  true  enough.  Dominie,"  remarked  LeBaron, 


MOTHER  CREWELS  CURSE. 


69 


"  Our  gran'thers  were  not  of  the  Pilgrim  stock,  and  yet 
we  may  be  passably  good  townsmen.  I  am  riding  to 
Eel  River  presently,  and  will  call  and  have  a  talk  with 
the  Elder,  of  this  and  other  matters." 

And  I  ride  to  Manomet  Ponds  to  speak  with  Ellis 
and  the  rest  of  his  society  ;  they  fain  would  set  up  to 
be  called  the  Second  Church  of  Plymouth,''  said  the  par- 
son. "If  it  please  you,  I  will  travel  so  far  as  Elder 
Faunce's  house  with  you,  and  get  his  opinion  upon  their 
business." 

From  this  morning  chat  between  the  doctor  and  the 
minister  grew  two  important  events,  both  affecting  our 
story. 

The  first  was,  that,  some  three  weeks  later,  Ansel 
Ring  and  Molly  Peach  were  quietly  married  by  Squire 
Lothrop  in  the  office  adjoining  his  house,  in  the  presence 
of  two  or  three  of  the  townsmen,  who,  coming  in  to  sign 
a  deed,  were  detained  by  the  judge  as  witnesses. 

Although  not  strictly  in  the  line  of  his  duty,  Lothrop, 
having  pronounced  these  candidates  man  and  wife,  pro- 
ceeded to  deliver  a  short  homily  to  them,  and,  touching 
distinctly  upon  their  irregular  course  of  wooing,  charged 
them  gravely  to  take  heed  lest  a  bad  beginning  should 
bring  about  a  worse  ending. 

Not  a  little  disturbed  by  this  rebuke  and  by  the  cold- 
ness of  the  witnesses,  the  new-made  couple  somewhat 
precipitately  left  the  office,  omitting  to  close  the  door ;  so 
that  those  within,  as  well  as  several  passers-by  and  a 
little  knot  of  loungers  at  Consider  Rowland's  door,  were 
all  aware  of  a  tall,  emaciated  figure  suddenly  rising 
from  the  lower  step  of  the  house-door  and  confronting 
Ansel  and  Molly,  who  at  sight  of  that  haggard  face  and 
streaming  gray  hair  started  back  aghast. 


\ 


70    DR.  Lebaron  and  his  daughters. 


"  Mother  Crewe  !  "  gasped  Molly,  her  face  blanching 
piteously. 

"  Yes,  Bathsheba  Crewe's  mother !  "  shrieked  the  old 
woman.  "  Bathsheba,  that  you  murdered,  you  two  —  yes, 
murdered  —  the  only  child  I  had,  and  she  lying  in  her 
grave  and  you  dancing  on  it ;  but  not  for  long,  mark 
you,  not  for  long,  if  a  widow's  curse  can  hender  "  — 

"  Oh,  don't  curse  us,  don't  curse  us  ! "  screamed 
Molly,  falling  on  her  knees  and  covering  her  face  with 
her  hands.  But  mother  Crewe's  face  showed  no  sign  of 
relenting  as  she  gazed  upon  that  trembling  figure, 
decked  out  with  its  poor  attempt  at  bridal  finery  ;  in- 
deed, an  added  scorn  and  detestation  seemed  to  gather 
upon  her  brow,  and,  bending  over  the  girl,  her  arms 
stiflfly  extended  upward,  she  deliberately  cursed  her  in 
all  the  detail  of  anathema  to  be  gathered  from  the  black 
and  bitter  pages  of  wizard  lore  :  sleeping,  waking,  in  her 
home  and  among  her  neighbors,  in  her  body  and  in  her 
soul,  in  her  life  and  in  her  death,  and  in  a  dishonored 
grave.  "  And  may  your  husband  fail  in  all  he  under- 
takes and  die  of  a  broken  heart,  and  may  all  your 
sons  be  cripples,  and  all  your  girls  lightlied  and  de- 
serted as  mine  has  been,  and  no  one  to  pity  or  to  help, 
and  "  — 

But  here  Judge  Lothrop,  who,  with  the  rest,  had  lis- 
tened until  now,  stepped  down  from  his  office  door, 
and,  laying  a  hand  upon  the  old  woman's  shoulder, 
sternly  bade  her  be  silent,  adding  to  Ansel  Ring,  who 
stood  dazed  and  stupefied,  "  And  you,  man,  rouse  your- 
self, and  take  your  wife  hence  as  quickly  as  may  be. 
When  all  is  done,  mother  Crewe  has  a  fair  excuse  for 
Vfhat  she  says." 

The  words  and  the  voice  of  authority  seemed  to 


MOTHER  CREWE'S  CURSE. 


71 


break  the  uncanny  spell,  lying  not  only  upon  Ansel  Ring, 
but  upon  all  the  spectators,  and  a  tumult  of  voices,  of 
counsels,  of  reproof,  at  once  arose,  in  the  midst  of  which 
mother  Crewe,  turning  sharply  into  an  alley  leading  up 
between  Judge  Lothrop's  and  Francis  LeBaron's  gar- 
dens  to  the  Burying  Hill,  disappeared,  and  was  not  pur- 
sued. 

A  few  minutes  later  the  new-made  husband  and  wife 
took  their  way  to  their  bridal  home  as  joyously  and 
bravely  as  our  first  parents  departed  from  Paradise. 

The  bystanders  looked  after  them  dubiously,  and 
Josiah  Cook  voiced  the  feeling  of  most  of  his  hearers 
when  he  said,  ^'  I  would  n't  stand  in  that  young  feller's 
shoes  for  all  the  gold  of  Creshus,  would  you,  now.  Mas- 
ter Rowland  ?  " 

Howland  gravely  shook  his  head.  "  I  know  one  thing  : 
no  daughter  of  mine  shall  marry  one  of  Ansel  Ring's 
sons,  and  no  son  of  mine  shall  wive  one  of  his  daughters 
—  if  I  can  help  it." 

"  Well  put  in,  neighbor,"  retorted  the  voice  of  Laz- 
arus LeBaron,  who  had  silently  joined  the  group.  "  Our 
sons  choose  their  own  wives  without  our  help,  for  the 
most  part." 

The  other  memorable  event  resulting  from  the  con- 
versation between  Parson  Leonard  and  Doctor  LeBaron 
was,  that,  on  a  fine  sunshiny  morning,  some  three  days 
after  this  untoward  wedding,  an  open  wagon  was 
driven  slowly  and  carefully  into  town  from  the  direc- 
tion of  Eel  River.  In  the  centre  of  it  was  placed  an 
armchair,  and  upon  this  was  seated  an  old,  old  man, 
whose  ninety-five  years  had  bowed  the  once  stalwart 
figure,  seamed  the  face  with  a  thousand  wi-inkles, 
bleached  the  hair  to  the  whiteness  of  raw  silk,  and 


I 


f2      DR,  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS, 


stolen  the  strength  of  a  voice  once  powerful  in  its 
Maker's  praise  ;  but  they  had  not  been  able  to  quench 
the  memory,  or  dull  the  affections,  or  break  the  spirit 
of  that  brave  soul ;  for  this  was  Elder  Faunce,  the  last 
man  left  alive  who  had  talked  with  the  Pilgrims  face  to 
face,  had  heard  their  wondrous  story  from  their  own  lips, 
and  had  followed  one  after  another  to  their  honored 
though  nameless  graves.  And  now  to-day,  hearing  that 
the  Forefather's  Rock  was  in  danger  of  itself  going  down 
to  a  forgotten  grave,  he  had  risen  from  his  bed,  and, 
tenderly  protected  and  led  by  the  children  and  grand- 
children who  cared  for  his  old  age,  he  had  come  to  say 
good-by  to  the  Rock,  and  to  identify  it  with  certainty 
for  generations  yet  unborn. 

As  the  wagon,  with  its  escort  of  old  and  middle-aged 
and  young  descendants  of  the  patriarch,  passed  slowly 
into  town,  it  paused  once  that  the  Elder  might  drink 
from  the  Pilgrim  Spring  of  "  sweet  and  delicate  water 
and  as  a  grandson  brought  him  the  clam-shell  filled  to 
overflowing,  the  old  man  tasted  thrice,  then  poured  the 
rest  upon  the  ground,  saying :  — 

"  It  is  as  the  water  from  the  well  of  Bethlehem." 

And  so  the  wagon  rolled  on  up  the  hill  to  the  centre 
of  the  town ;  for  by  this  way  would  the  patriarch  be 
brought,  that  he  might  look  once  more  at  the  old  church, 
just  about  to  be  replaced  by  a  new  one,  and  the  Bury- 
ing Hill,  and  the  ancient  houses  which  as  a  boy  he  had 
seen  erected. 

And  here  the  people  gathered  indeed  around  this 
messenger  from  the  days  gone  by :  the  old  men,  who 
might  have  been  his  sons  ;  the  younger  ones,  who  remem- 
bered in  their  childhood  gazing  upon  his  white  hair  and 
bowed  form  as  the  type  of  old  age ;  the  children,  who 


MOTHER  CREWE'S  CURSE. 


73 


had  heard  their  parents  talk  of  him,  and  now  stood 
wondering,  their  own  hfe  as  yet  too  scant  to  appreciate 
the  fullness  of  his. 

Young  men  and  maidens,  old  men  and  children,  they 
gathered  in  a  sort  of  hushed  excitement,  waiting  when 
he  waited,  and  following  when  he  moved ;  for  word  had 
gone  forth  in  some  mysterious  way  that  Elder  Faunce 
had  come  among  them  for  the  last  time,  and  that  he 
had  somewhat  to  declare. 

Through  the  town,  down  Ley  den  Street,  past  the 
doctor's  house  and  past  the  minister's,  that  strange  cor- 
tege moved  slowly  on,  until,  passing  under  the  brow 
of  Cole's  Hill  to  the  Rock,  it  halted,  and  two  stal- 
wart grandsons,  stepping  into  the  wagon,  raised  the  old 
man  tenderly,  and  stayed  him  while  others  upon  the 
ground  helped  him  to  dismount.  Then  a  score  of  old 
friends  pressed  forward,  and  would  have  grasped  his 
hands  and  welcomed  him  ;  but  he,  with  solemn  majesty, 
moved  on  unheeding,  until,  standing  close  beside  the 
Rock,  he  took  off  his  hat,  and  simply  said :  — 

"Thank  God!" 

No  prayer  could  have  been  so  eloquent,  no  words  so 
full  of  meaning,  and  first  one,  then  another,  and  finaUy 
all  who  stood  near,  bared  their  heads,  and  muttered 
^'Amen." 

Covering  his  white  locks,  and  leaning  upon  his  staff, 
the  Elder  spoke,  and  told  the  people  how  he  had  talked 
man  to  man  with  the  last  of  the  Pilgrims,  with  John 
Howland  and  his  wife,  with  John  Alden,  and  Giles  Hop- 
kins, and  George  Soule,  and  Francis  Cook  and  his  son 
John,  and  Mistress  Cushman,  born  Mary  Allerton,  who 
died  but  yesterday,  in  1699. 

^'  And  these  men  and  these  women  all  told  the  same 


74    DR.  LeBARon  and  his  daughters. 


story,  children,"  said  the  old  man,  looking  round  upon 
the  people,  while  such  stillness  reigned  that  the  surf 
breaking  upon  the  outer  beach  became  distinctly  audible, 
its  grand  diapason  bearing  up  the  quavering  and  slender 
voice.  "  They  all  said  that  upon  this  Rock  they  stepped 
ashore,  from  the  first  man  to  the  last ;  ay,  and  the 
women  too,  for  John  Winslow's  wife,  who  was  Mary 
Chilton,  came  here  before  she  died,  even  as  I  have  come 
to-day,  and  I  stood  by  while  she  set  her  foot  upon  it,  and 
laughed,  and  said  she  was  the  first  woman  of  the  May- 
flower to  step  upon  that  rock,  and  now  she  stepped  on 
it  for  the  last  time,  for  this  was  her  seventy-fifth  birth- 
day. And  ye,  children  of  my  own  blood,  I  charge  you 
to  remember  how,  year  by  year,  while  God  lent  me 
strength,  I  brought  you  here,  on  Forefather's  Day,  and 
set  your  feet  upon  this  Rock,  and  told  you  what  mighty 
things  the  Fathers  had  done  for  you,  and  laid  upon  you 
to  do  them  honor,  and  to  serve  God  even  as  they  served 
Him,  with  all  your  heart,  and  all  your  soul,  and  all  your 
strength,  and  all  your  mind,  —  yes,  and  with  your  life, 
whensoever  He  calls  for  it. 

"  Do  I  say  what  is  true,  my  children  ?  " 

"  It  is  true,  grandsir,"  spoke  out  the  nearest  man  ;  and 
a  score  of  voices  echoed,  "  It  is  true." 

"  Then  come  ye  forward,  sons  and  grandsons,  and  put 
your  feet  upon  the  Rock  once  more  in  my  sight,  and 
never  forget  this  day,  you  nor  your  children's  children, 
to  the  last  generation." 

So  man  by  man,  down  to  the  boy  of  ten,  the  Faunces 
came  and  stood  bareheaded  on  the  Rock,  and  passed  on, 
until  the  tale  was  told  ;  and  finally  the  Elder  himself  knelt 
down,  and  kissed  that  precious  relic,  and  prayed  that  it 
never  should  be  forgotten,  or  the  sons  of  Pilgrim  sires  fall 
short  of  the  bright  example  of  their  fathers. 


MOTHER  CREWE'S  CURSE. 


75 


Then,  exhausted  and  silent,  he  suffered  his  children  to 
raise  him  and  place  him  again  in  what  had  become,  in 
some  sort,  a  triumphal  chariot,  and  so  take  him  home 
by  way  of  the  water-side,  followed  by  a  vast  concourse 
of  people. 

Nor  is  this  story  a  fiction  of  the  novelist,  but  true, 
word  for  word,  as  any  may  read  it  in  the  annals  of  the 
Old  Colony. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


A  LIFE  FOR  A  LEMON. 

Plymouth  Beach  was  not  always  the  barren  sand- 
spit  it  now  is.  The  Pilgrims  found  it  well  covered 
with  timber  and  fruit  trees,  of  which  one  hundred  and 
twenty-five  years  later  a  fair  grove  still  lingered.  This 
was  some  six  hundred  yards  in  length,  extending  from 
side  to  side  of  the  beach,  and  inclosing  in  its  heart  a 
lawn  of  thick  turf,  with  a  spring  of  delicious  water  at 
one  side. 

Four  great  beech  trees  stood  like  sentinels  at  the 
corners  of  this  fair  oasis,  and,  pendent  from  their 
branches,  thick  vines,  laden  with  grapes  of  three  colors, 
wove  a  wall  of  living  tapestry  more  excellent  than  even 
that  of  Bayeux. 

Near  the  water,  upon  the  inner  curve  of  the  beach, 
clustered  wild  plum  and  cherry  trees,  covered  in  their 
season  with  fruit,  while  sweet  fern,  wild  roses,  and 
bayberry  bushes  perfumed  the  salt  breath  of  the  sea. 

An  idyllic  spot,  and  a  favorite  one  with  the  summer 
merry-makers  of  old  Plymouth  until,  in  the  time  of  the 
French  Revolution,  a  great  storm,  followed  by  a  mighty 
tide,  swept  across  the  beach,  drowning  the  shrubs,  bury° 
ing  the  sward  in  sand,  and  so  poisoning  the  roots  of  the 
great  trees  that  they  soon  died. 

Perhaps  it  was  the  back-water  of  that  wave  of 
Fraternity  and  Equality  which  brought  all  men  to  a 


A  LIFE  FOR  A  LEMON. 


77 


level  by  destroying  the  pleasant  things  wherewith  those 
of  cultivated  tastes  had  embellished  the  world. 

Forty  years,  however,  still  remained  before  that  evil 
day,  and  little  was  it  foreseen  by  the  gay  company 
gathered  in  the  intervale  upon  a  summer  day,  a  century 
and  a  half  ago,  enjoying  one  of  the  picnics  for  which 
Plymouth  was  famous  in  the  old  time  when  everybody 
was  everybody's  cousin,  or  at  least  kith,  if  not  quite 
kin,  and  the  town  was  one  great  family. 

The  especial  occasion  of  this  picnic  was  to  afford 
Colonel  John  Win  slow,  just  home  from  the  West  Indies, 
and  about  to  sail  for  Nova  Scotia,  an  opportunity  to 
meet  his  friends,  and  say  a  cheerful  good-by.  And 
surely  the  friends  were  here :  Edward  Winslow  and  the 
Warrens,  of  course,  since  the  colonel  was  visiting  his  sis- 
ter Penelope,  and  the  Whites  and  the  Rowlands,  his 
near  kin,  and  the  Watsons  and  the  LeBarons  and  the 
Lothrops  and  the  Cottons,  the  Cushmans  and  the 
Thomases  and  the  Bartletts,  and  Parson  Leonard  with 
his  family,  and  many  another  for  whom  we  have  no 
room  in  this  story,  although  the  annals  of  Plymouth 
honor  their  deeds  and  names. 

Mrs.  Lydia  Bradford  Cushman's  year  of  widowhood 
was  over,  and  although  she  still  wore  mourning,  it  was 
of  that  gentle  and  mitigated  style  which  proved  vastly 
becoming  to  her  blond  beauty.  She  was  escorted  by 
her  cousin,  William  Bradford,  a  gay  young  medical 
student,  afterward  of  Bristol,  R.  I.,  and  he  had  brought 
his  friend,  Nathaniel  Goodwin.  These  two,  with 
Abraham  Hammatt,  Joseph  LeBaron,  George  Watson, 
Theophilus  Cotton,  and  some  other  lively  bachelors, 
having  got  themselves  afloat  very  early  to  catch  the  cod 
for  the  chowder,  besides  helping   Sam  Burgess,  of 


78       DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS, 


Saquish,  to  dig  clams  for  the  "  bake,"  now  rewarded 
themselves  for  their  industry  by  lounging  under  the 
trees  with  the  girls,  whom  they  helped  or  hindered  in 
laying  the  cloth  and  spreading  the  feast,  conversing  the 
while  in  the  wise  and  thoughtful  manner  characteristic 
of  their  time  of  life  both  in  that  day  and  in  this. 

It  was  not  long  before  this  merry  crowd  perceived 
that  Nat  Goodwin,  the  handsome  young  stranger,  had 
eyes  and  ears  only  for  Lydia  LeBaron,  and  that  she 
was  disposed  to  unbend  in  his  favor  from  the  rather 
scornful  indifference  it  had  been  her  wont  to  display 
toward  the  boys  who  had  grown  up  with  her,  accept- 
ing his  somewhat  masterful  suggestions  with  a  touch  of 
that  docility  hitherto  reserved  for  her  father. 

Colonel  Winslow,  meantime,  had  linked  his  arm  in 
that  of  Lydia's  father,  and,  leading  him  down  the  beach, 
said,  "  Come,  Doctor,  you  and  I  will  have  a  stroll,  and 
may  be  taste  a  glass  of  bitters  at  the  Sailor's  Joy  out 
here." 

For  in  those  days  a  small  public  house  standing  in 
what  is  now  blue  water,  between  the  Beacon  and  the 
Square  Pier,  was  supported  by  mariners  who  thronged 
the  bay  and  carried  on  the  now  dead-and-buried  com- 
merce of  Plymouth. 

"  With  pleasure.  Colonel,"  replied  the  doctor  cordially. 
"This  air  is  a  tonic  beyond  the  reach  of  Jesuits'  bark, 
and  even  without  the  bitters  will  give  us  appetite  for 
the  dainty  vivers  these  dear  creatures  have  provided. 
High  tide,  is  it  not  ?  Not  even  a  ripple  on  Brown's 
Island." 

"  Yes,  as  calm  as  a  millpond,  —  as  calm  as  it  was 
on  the  day  I  rode  across.  You 've  heard  of  that  folly, 
have  n't  you  ? " 


A  LIFE  FOR  A  LEMON. 


79 


"  My  brother  Jim  told  me  something  about  it,  but  I 
was  in  France  at  the  time." 

"  Yes,  I  remember ;  but  Jim  was  here,  —  very  much 
here,  poor  old  chap !  " 

"  It  was  for  a  wager  you  did  it,  I  believe  ?  "  suggested 
the  doctor  rather  sharply,  for  James  LeBaron  was 
recently  dead. 

"  No,  not  exactly,''  replied  the  colonel,  blandly  uncon- 
scious of  everybody's  interests  but  his  own.  "  I  prefer  to 
call  it  a  strategic  movement,  and  so  brilliant  a  one  that 
it  shows  I  was  born  for  a  soldier.  It  was  this  way :  A 
lot  of  us  fellows,  not  one  over  three  and  twenty,  and  all 
full  of  the  Old  Harry,  agreed  to  ride  down  Duxbury 
Beach  to  the  Gurnet,  and  have  a  chowder  at  Burgess's,  — 
this  man's  father,  you  know ;  then  we  were  to  ride  back 
and  wind  up  with  a  supper  at  the  Bunch  of  Grapes, 
and  the  last  man  in  was  to  pay  for  the  punch.  Oh, 
Lord,  what  a  set  of  dare-devils  we  were  in  those  days, 
though  we  're  sober  enough  now !  Lothrop  '  as  grave  as 
a  judge,'  and  Warren,  and  White,  and  Watson,  and 
'Sider  Rowland :  they  're  all  over  here  to-day,  I  vow, 
and  many  a  stone  heavier  and  many  a  wrinkle  older,  — 
well,  well,  well.  But  about  the  ride.  I  was  mounted 
on  King,  that  black  stallion  I  had  out  from  England, 
and  the  rest  rode  horses  nearly  as  good,  so  we  got  over 
the  ground,  I  assure  you ;  and  what  with  the  fatigue  and 
the  heat,  and  perhaps  a  drop  of  aqua  vitae  to  keep  the 
chowder  from  hurting  us,  we  all  felt  a  little  lazy  after 
dinner,  and  threw  ourselves  on  the  ground  under 
Saquish  Tree  to  smoke  and  chat  awhile  before  we  went 
home. 

"  The  next  thing  I  knew  for  certain  was  the  sun  set' 
ting  over  Kingston,  and  blazing  full  in  my  eyes. 


80      DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS, 


"  I  sat  up,  rubbed  my  eyes,  and  looked  about  me.  I 
was  all  alone,  and  the  leaves  of  the  old  linden  were  the 
only  tongues  that  replied  to  my  '  Hullo  !  * 

"  I  sprang  to  my  feet,  stamped  a  bit,  said  a  strong 
word  or  two,  and  looked  harder.  No  use !  I  was  as 
much  alone  as  Adam  before  Eve's  arrival.  Making  my 
way  back  to  Burgess's,  I  met  the  old  fellow  chuckling 
so  he  scarce  could  stand,  which  gave  me  the  chance  to 
relieve  my  mind  by  another  word  of  a  sort,  and  presently 
he  sobered  down  enough  to  tell  me  that  my  friends  were 
all  gone,  but  had  left  their  love  for  me,  and  they  would 
order  the  punch  to  save  me  the  trouble  when  I  came. 

"Well,  sir,  I  stood  a  minute  and  thought  over  the 
position.  Those  fellows  had  an  hour's  start,  and  they 
were  certain  not  to  linger  by  the  way,  for  they  knew 
King  and  they  knew  me ;  but  an  hour  is  an  hour,  and 
if  I  burst  my  horse  I  could  not  overtake  them.  As  I 
came  to  this  conclusion,  old  Eb,  who  had  been  watching 
my  face,  drawled  out :  — 

"  '  Don't  see  how  you  '11  do  it,  young  man,  'thout  you 
ride  acrost  the  harbor.' 

"  I  turned  and  looked  at  the  water.  It  was  dead  low 
water,  just  the  slack  before  the  turn,  and  the  channel  at 
that  point  is  not  over  half  a  mile  wide  from  Saquish  to 
the  point  of  the  beach,  just  about  where  we  stand  now ; 
then  down  the  beach  is  three  miles,  and  to  the  Bunch  of 
Grapes  say  two  to  three  more,  —  about  six  mile  in  all, 
while  those  fellows  had  fifteen  to  do. 

"  ^  You  're  right.  Burgess,'  said  I,  '  that 's  my  best 
course.'  And  throwing  my  leg  over  King  I  headed 
him  for  the  point.  Lord!  you  ought  to  have  heard 
that  old  man  swear !  He  was  a  little  scared  and  a  lit- 
tle puzzled,  and  that 's  the  form  his  feelings  took.  Any- 


A  LIFE  FOR  A  LEMON. 


81 


way,  he  swore  me  into  a  good  humor,  so  that  I  rode  off 
laughing,  and  presently  reached  the  edge  of  the  water. 
King  did  n't  fancy  my  idea  any  more  than  Burgess  did, 
but  I  soon  persuaded  him  that  I  knew  best,  and  once 
he  was  off  his  feet  he  swam  gallantly  and  strongly. 

"  The  tide  turned  while  we  were  seaborne,  and  swept 
us  down  a  little  ;  but  we  weathered  it,  and  struck  the 
beach  just  about  this  point,  a  little  south  of  the  Sailor's 
Joy,  —  not  then  built,  by  the  way. 

Once  safe  on  terra  firma,  I  loosened  King's  girths, 
moistened  my  handkerchief  with  aqua  vitse  from  my 
pocket  flask  and  wiped  out  his  mouth,  poured  the  few 
last  drops  into  my  own  mouth,  and  as  soon  as  my  horse 
was  breathed,  but  before  he  was  chilled,  I  mounted  and 
rode  merrily  on  to  town.  Half  an  hour  later  my  party 
arrived,  hot,  dusty,  and  blown,  to  find  me,  cool  and 
freshly  dressed,  compounding  a  mighty  bowl  of  punch, 
for  which  Watson,  lagging  a  little  behind  the  rest,  had 
to  pay.    Well,  well,  they  were  grand  times,  those !  " 

"  For  Homeric  fellows  like  you,"  replied  the  doctor, 
laughing  rather  cynically.  "And  were  you  the  man 
who  rode  to  Boston  and  back  in  one  night  for  a 
lemon  ?  " 

"  No,  that  was  White,  Cornelius  White,  of  Marshfield  ; 
brother  of  Gideon,  who  married  Consider  Howland's 
sister  Joanna,  the  other  day." 

"  Yes,  I  danced  at  the  wedding." 

"  I  '11  be  bound  you  did.  Doctor.  Well,  one  night 
some  time  after  my  adventure,  a  lot  of  us  met  to  make 
a  night  of  it  at  the  Bunch  of  Grapes,  and  by  some  mis- 
chance the  lemons  gave  out  just  as  we  began  to  get  into 
the  thick  of  the  fight. 

" '  If  you  fellows  will  swear  to  sit  here  till  I  come 


82      DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS, 


back,  I  '11  fetch  some  lemons,  if  I  go  to  Somewhere  for 
them,'  says  Corny  White  ;  and  Bartlett,  the  landlord, 
made  reply,  '  Guess  you  '11  find  'em  a  little  this  side, 
say  as  nigh  as  Boston,  but  not  nearer.' 

"  '  Well,  I  '11  try  Boston  first,  anyhow,'  says  Corny, 
and  in  five  minutes  he  was  on  the  road.  It  was  the 
month  of  October,  and  the  roads  were  in  first-rate  con- 
dition, and  Corny  had  a  good  horse  and  knew  how  to 
ride  him ;  but  it  was  a  mighty  rash  undertaking,  a  reck- 
less kind  of  thing,  risking  his  own  hfe  and  his  beast's 
for  nothing  better  than  a  lemon !  " 

It  was  an  attempt  to  rival  your  own  exploit,  Colo- 
nel.   Well !  " 

Well,  he  did  it,  arriving  in  Boston  about  two  o'clock 
in  the  morning ;  and  naturally  finding  the  people  abed 
and  the  shops  closed,  he  rode  down  to  the  tavern  in 
Elm  Street,  and  hammered  away  with  his  whip-handle 
on  the  door  until  they  got  up  and  served  him.  Then 
he  made  them  give  his  horse  a  mouthful  of  gruel  and 
himself  a  toss  of  brandy,  and  was  off  again,  with  the 
net  of  lemons  tied  to  his  saddle.  It 's  a  matter  of  forty 
mile  each  way,  you  know,  and  he  did  the  whole  business 
in  ten  hours. 

"  We  all  sat  round  the  table,  as  we  had  promised,  and 
a  very  long  night  it  was  ;  but  about  seven  o'clock  we 
heard  a  horse  come  stumbling  and  faltering  down  the 
street,  and  we  looked  into  each  other's  haggard  faces,  a 
little  ashamed  of  ourselves  in  the  morning  light. 

"  The  poor  beast  fell  flat  the  moment  the  rein  was 
slacked,  and  never  got  up  again,  and  the  man  had  to  be 
carried  into  the  house,  but  —  we  had  the  lemons,  and 
made  the  punch  !  " 

"  Hm  I    Have  a  pinch  of  snuff,  Colonel." 


A  LIFE  FOR  A  LEMON. 


83 


"  I 'm  obliged  to  you,  Doctor.  But  all  this  idle  talk 
is  aside  from  the  true  business  I  had  to  speak  of,  and 
as  we  turn  back  I  must  lose  no  time  in  opening  it. 

"  I  dare  say  you  have  already  heard  that  I  am  on  the 
road  to  Nova  Scotia,  there  to  be  under  the  orders  of 
Governor  Lawrence  for  a  time,  during  the  settlement  of 
the  boundaries  between  the  French  and  English  prov- 
inces, and  I  know  not  what  exactly  ;  but  I  want  to  get 
you  appointed  surgeon  of  the  troops,  as  your  father 
was  before  you,  only  on  the  other  side.  Not  only 
have  I  the  profoundest  appreciation  of  your  skill  and 
resource,  but  it  will  be  a  pleasure  for  me  to  have  your 
companionship,  while  your  knowledge  of  the  French 
tongue  will  be  of  vast  benefit  to  us  all.  Say  you  will 
come,  my  dear  fellow,  and  your  commission  is  but  a 
matter  of  days." 

The  doctor  walked  thoughtfully  on  for  a  short  dis- 
tance, his  hands  clasped  behind  him,  his  head  dropped 
upon  his  breast ;  not  doubting  his  decision,  but  hesitating 
a  little  how  to  frame  it.    At  last  he  said  :  — 

When  France  ceded  Acadia,  which  you  call  Nova 
Scotia,  to  England,  the  habitans  were  allowed  to  take 
the  oath  of  allegiance  to  Great  Britain  with  the  proviso 
that  they  were,  under  no  circumstances,  to  be  called 
upon  to  bear  arms  against  France  ;  is  it  not  so  ?  " 

"Certainly.  They  are  called  the  French  Neutrals 
to-day." 

"  Well,  Colonel  Winslow,  I  also  am  a  French  Neutral." 

And  the  doctor  faced  his  companion  with  a  proud 
smile  upon  his  lips,  while  a  certain  indefinable  air  of 
anoienne  noblesse  crept,  quite  unconsciously  to  himself, 
over  and  through  the  entire  man. 

Winslow,  descendant  of  the  haughtiest  of  the  PiU 
grims,  recognized  the  change,  and  appreciated  it. 


84    DR.  LeBARON  and  his  daughters. 


Your  father's  blood  is  warm  in  your  veins,"  said  he 
quietly. 

"  Yes,  and  it  will  not  fight  against  his  native  land. 
We  do  not  say  these  things  aloud,  Winslow,  but  I  am 
a  man  without  a  home.  When  I  was  in  France,  the 
voices  of  the  children  prattling  their  native  tongue 
thrilled  me  with  delight,  for  so  my  father  used  to  speak 
to  me,  an  infant  on  his  knee.  And  yet,  I  could  not  stay 
in  France ;  the  air,  so  laden  with  the  decay  of  a  corrupt 
monarchy,  was  like  that  of  a  sick-room  where  they 
burn  pastilles  to  cover  loathsome  odors.  I  longed  for 
the  untainted  breath  of  Plymouth  woods  and  shore; 
yesterday  again,  when  yonder  Bordeaux  trader  came  in, 
I  went  down  on  the  wharf  and  spent  an  hour  in  listening 
v,o  her  sailors  swearing  in  French.  Take  a  pinch  of 
snuff.  Colonel." 

"  I  see,  I  see,"  said  Winslow  gently,  but  not  joining 
in  the  other's  bitter  laugh. 

^'  In  three  generations,  however,"  pursued  LeBaron, 
as  the  two  men  once  more  approached  the  merry  camp- 
ing-ground, "  one  may  expect  a  real  transformation  of 
most  race-marks.  My  children  are,  or  should  be,  Eng- 
lish colonists,  if  that  is  our  nationality  "  — 

"Nay,  we  are  Englishmen,"  interposed  Winslow 
proudly. 

"  Who  never  breathed  English  air,"  was  the  quiet  re- 
ply. "  Oh  well,  oh  well,  Winslow,  for  all  our  pride  of 
free-will  we  neither  make  nor  mar  the  world's  destiny. 
A  hundred  years  from  to-day  our  great  grandchildren 
will  laugh  at  our  blind  ignorance,  and  God  only  knows 
of  what  nationality  they  will  call  themselves.  Mean- 
time "  —  and  with  a  gesture  of  his  handsome  hand  the 
doctor  seemed  to  sweep  the  late  conversation  airily  be- 


A  LIFE  FOR  A  LEMON. 


85 


hind  him,  —  "  meantime,  you  ask  me  to  go  with  you  to 

Canada,  and  I  reply  with  the  man  in  Holy  Writ, 

marry  a  wife,  and  therefore  I  cannot  come.'  " 

''You!" 
«  J  » 

"  And  the  lady,  may  I  ask  ? 

For  reply,  the  doctor,  stepping  within  the  embowered 
lawn  on  whose  limit  they  had  paused,  took  a  charming 
seek-no-further  apple  from  a  basket  standing  near,  and, 
doffing  his  hat,  offered  it  to  the  widow  Cushman,  say- 
ing softly,  — 

"  For  the  fairest !  " 


CHAPTER  IX. 

QUASHO'S  CALABASH. 

It  was  a  golden  September  day,  and  some  of  the 
happiest  inhabitants  of  Plymouth  lay  or  crouched  in 
the  morning  sunshine  upon  the  gallery,  or  as  they 
called  it,  the  stoop,  which  ran  across  the  back  of  Doctor 
LeBaron's  house,  connecting  two  little  additions  recently 
made  to  the  main  body.  One  of  these  additions,  known 
as  Prince's  kitchen,  was,  with  the  bedrooms  over  it,  the 
abiding  place  of  the  negro  servants  when  not  on  duty, 
and  the  other  was  a  scullery  and  wash-house ;  the  wide 
gallery  connecting  these,  and  also  giving  access  to  the 
main  kitchen,  was  protected  from  the  north,  and,  lying 
exposed  to  the  east  with  a  trend  toward  the  south,  was 
a  deliciously  warm  and  sunny  spot. 

One  of  the  principal  duties  of  the  mistress  of  the 
house  had  always  been  to  guard  this  stoop  from  the 
poultry  and  the  negroes,  who  both  made  constant  if  fur- 
tive efforts  to  roost  there ;  but  now,  alas,  the  house  had 
no  mistress,  for  David  Bradford's  daughter,  pretty,  fair- 
haired  widow  Cushman,  had  gone  to  join  that  other 
Lydia,  wife  of  Doctor  Lazarus  LeBaron,"  upon  Bury- 
ing Hill,  and  lay  close  by  her  side,  in  mute  submission 
to  the  law  that  death  makes  all  men  comrades,  be  their 
lives  never  so  opposed. 

And  yet,  fancy  at  the  midnight  hour  those  two  Lydias 
standing,  each  a  misty  slender  figure,  at  her  own  head- 


QUASHO'S  CALABASH. 


87 


stone,  and  gazing  each  upon  the  other  through  the  fog- 
laden  moonlight !  Would  Lydia  Bartlett  carry  Lydia 
Bradford  to  creep  with  her  into  the  doctor's  study,  that 
room  denied  to  both  in  life,  and  would  she  lay  a  ghostly 
finger  upon  the  square  of  crimson  harrateen  and  tell  its 
story  with  a  flickering  smile  ? 

At  least  we  are  sure  that  this  first  Lydia  needed  not 
to  reproach  the  second  with  a  stepmother's  harshness  to 
her  children,  for  she  had  been  gentleness  and  self-denial 
personified,  and  the  victim  rather  than  the  oppressor 
of  Lydia  LeBaron,  until  the  latter  married  Nathaniel 
Goodwin  and  left  her  father's  house.  Then  roguish 
Mary  married  William  Bradford,  and  Hannah  was  but 
now  the  bride  of  Benjamin  Goodwin,  brother  to  Lydia's 
husband ;  and  Doctor  LeBaron  had,  as  trustee  of  his 
stepson  Elkanah  Cushman,  sold  the  house  on  the  corner 
of  the  Great  Gutter  to  Ben  and  Hannah,  giving  as  his 
whimsical  reason  that  Pegasus  had  acquired  such  a 
habit  of  stopping  there  that  it  was  best  to  have  one  of 
the  family  settled  in  the  house. 

So  Teresa  remained  alone  of  her  mother's  daughters, 
and  played  with  somewhat  ludicrous  effect  the  part  of 
matron  to  her  half-sister  Elizabeth,  commonly  called 
Bess,  a  gentle  maid  of  sixteen,  and  to  little  Priscilla 
and  Margaret. 

To  these  four  girls,  must  be  added  four  boys,  Isaac, 
Lemuel,  Francis,  and  William,  ranging  in  age  from  nine 
to  eighteen,  the  torment  and  the  delight,  the  terror  and 
the  boast,  of  old  Pompey  and  Phyllis,  who  had  become 
virtually  the  heads  of  the  house,  although  a  lady,  called 
Aunt  Nancy  by  everybody  in  town,  had  been  a  member 
of  the  family  ever  since  the  late  Mistress  LeBaron 's 
death,  and  was  nominally  housekeeper  and  duenna. 


88      DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


After  this  long  preamble  we  will  return  to  the  gallery, 
whose  happy  occupants  were  none  other  than  the  negroes, 
who,  knowing  that  even  Aunt  Nancy  was  out,  and  the 
doctor  on  his  rounds,  sprawled  in  the  sunshine,  happily 
oblivious  of  any  other  need  or  duties.  Pompey,  gray- 
haired  and  imperious,  sat  upon  the  top  step,  a  corn-cob 
pipe  in  his  mouth,  a  mug  of  cider  at  his  right  hand ;  his 
son  Pompey,  a  fellow  of  fifteen  or  so,  lay  flat  upon  his 
stomach  in  the  scorching  sun,  and  as  the  marrow  fried 
in  his  bones  drummed  his  toes  upon  the  hot  boards  in 
delicious  content.  Phyllis,  his  mother,  disposed  her 
amplitude  in  a  splint-bottomed  low  rocking-chair,  and 
also  smoked.  Prince  and  Quasho,  fine  hearty  fellows 
in  the  prime  of  life,  lounged  upon  the  steps  at  Pompey's 
feet,  Prince  smoking,  and  Quasho  eating  apples  as  usual, 
and  throwing  the  cores  to  the  ducks  and  hens  who 
waddled,  quacked,  and  cackled  around  his  feet. 

^'  Mis'able  kind  o'  work,  dis  heavin*  up  yer  anchor  an' 
gittin'  under  way  ebery  odder  minute,''  remarked  Prince, 
who  had  been  to  the  Banks  on  his  master's  account  in 
the  last  season. 

"Don'  know  'bout  ebery  odder  minute,"  objected 
Quasho.  I  ain't  nebber  moved  but  once  in  my  life, 
an'  dat  was  from  Afriky  here." 

"  Doos  you  remember  w'en  you  come,  unc'  Quash  ?  " 
asked  young  Pompey,  raising  his  head  like  a  turtle. 

"  W  'y,  ain't  you  nebber  heerd  o'  dat  ?  "  exclaimed 
Phyllis,  looking  fondly  upon  her  offspring.  "  Law-d  bless 
de  chile,  Quash,  tell  him  all  'bout  it." 

"  Spec's  he 's  heerd  it  heap  o'  times  a'ready,"  replied 
Quasho,  rolling  his  eyes  lazily  toward  the  boy.  "  But 
dere 's  plenty  o'  folks  jis  like  dem  yer  ducks  :  yer  kin  jis 
heave  water  ober  'em  all  day,  and  nebber  wet  dey  skin." 


QUASHO'S  CALABASH. 


89 


"Go  'long,  Quash!  Tell  de  chile  all  'bout  it  'fore 
Miss  Nancy  gets  home." 

"  Dunno  w'at  Miss  Nancy 's  got  ter  say  'bout  it," 
replied  Quasho  superbly.  "  She  was  a  heap  too  old  to 
know  nuffin  w'en  I  come  here.  Well,  boy,  it  wuz  jus 
dis  way  :  it  was  froo  stoppin  to  play  w'en  I  was  sent  on 
an  ar'nt  dat  I  came  in  de  mis'able  fix  w'at  you  sees  me 
in  now." 

"  Dunno  as  you 's  so  awful  mis'able,  unc'  Quash,"  re- 
marked Pomp  with  a  grin,  but  Quash  gravely  shook  his 
head. 

"  Dere 's  lots  o'  mis'ry  chil'en  don'  know  nuffin  'bout ; 
dey 's  Hke  young  b'ars  wid  all  dere  troubles  ahead  of 
^em." 

Dat 's  so,  nigger !  "  sighed  Prince,  who  was  consumecl 
with  an  unrequited  passion  for  Nanny,  Lawyer  Hovey'f 
servant. 

"Yes,  Pomp,  ef  I'd  a  minded  my  mammy,  an' 
f otched  that  ar  cal'bash  o'  water  spry,  you  would  n'  neb- 
ber  ben  'quainted  wid  me,"  resumed  Quasho  dolefully. 
"  Mos'  likely  I' d  'a  ben  eat  up  fore  now,  f er  dat 's  de 
way  mas'  Doctor  sez  our  folks  gits  der  libbin  ter  home,, 
an'  dat 's  w'y  we 'd  ought  ter  be  so  t'ankful  to  be  fotched 
here,  an'  wuk  for  our  vittles.  Min'  you  be  t'ankful  all 
yer  life  long,  Pomp." 

"  But,  unc'  Quash,  I  wa*  n't  born  in  dat  yer  place  w'ere 
dey  eats  folks,"  retorted  Pomp,  who  knew  how  to  read, 
and  cipher  almost  as  well  as  his  young  masters. 

"  Hm  —  well,  I  was,  boy,"  replied  Quash,  a  little  dis- 
concerted,—  "  I  was ;  an'  I  'member 's  though  it  was 
yes'day  how  my  mammy  gib  me  big  cal'bash  one  day, 
an'  tole  me  run  lickety  split  down  to  de  spring  an'  fill 
it,  *cause  she  in  awful  hurry." 


90    DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


"  Tell  how  she  talk  nigger  talk,  Quash,"  suggested 
Phyllis,  with  a  jovial  chuckle. 

"  Mos'  forgotten  how  dat  goes,  but  somefin  like  dis 
yer,"  and  Quasho  gave  utterance  to  a  series  of  uncouth 
sounds,  prominent  among  which  was  his  own  name. 

"  I  heern  yer  say  'Quasho  M  "  exclaimed  Pomp,  sitting 
upright  in  his  excitement. 

"  Yes,  boy,  dat  was  my  name,  an'  I  kep'  it ;  wait  till  I 
tell  yer  how.  Wen  I  got  down  to  de  spring,  fus'  t'ing 
I  do  was  ter  take  a  drink  o'  water,  an'  de  nex'  t'ing  was 
ter  lay  flat  on  my  back  an'  stick  my  toes  in  der  water, 
an'  paddle  em  up  an'  down  same  as  any  odder  pickaninny 
'd  do ;  f  er  I  was  a  leetly  bit  ob  a  chile, —  leetler  dan 
Miss  Marg'et,  heap  leetler.  Lord,  niggers,  seems  dough 
I  see  dat  spring  dis  minute,  wid  de  cocoapalms  a-stan'in' 
up  so  still  an'  gran',  an'  de  sky  so  blue  an'  full  o' 
sunshine,  an'  de  hot  air  jis  flickerin'  up  an'  down  ober 
de  sand  outside  de  grove,  an'  de  pooty  pooty  lil'  brook 
a-runnin'  Vay  from  de  spring  an'  gittin'  los'  outside. 
Seems  as  dough  I  see  it  now  —  Lordy !  " 

"  Pore  ole  mammy !  "  said  Phyllis,  wiping  away  a 
ready  tear  with  one  end  of  her  turban  bow. 

"  Yes,  I  s'pose  she  felt  bad  —  jes'  lil'  while  ;  but  pore 
folks  don'  keer  long,"  and  Qaasho  shook  his  head,  with 
the  gloomy  cynicism  of  an  habitually  merry  fellow. 

"  Wy,  wot  happened  nex'  ?  "  demanded  Pomp,  who 
knew  well  enough,  but  liked  to  hear  the  story. 

"  W'y,  boy,  de  nex'  t'ing,  w'ile  I  lay  dere  a-paddlin' 
my  feet  an'  starin'  up  at  dem  cocoanuts  agin  de  blue 
sky,  I  heern  a  leetly  rustle  in  de  bushes  ahint  me,  an' 
somefin  —  a  man's  hat,  I  reckon  —  was  flopped  inter  my 
face,  an'  'fore  I 'd  got  bref  enough  back  to  holler,  a 
great  big  han'  stojjped  up  my  mouf  an'  nose,  an'  some- 


QUASHO'S  CALABASH. 


91 


buddy  'nother  was  totin'  me  off  from  de  bushes  fas'  as 
a  boss  kin  trot.  'Twas  one  o'  dem  slave-dealers,  yer 
see,  an'  I  nebber  knew  noffin  more  till  I  was  board  ship 
boun'  fer  Merikey. 

"  Pore  ole  mammy  !  I  alluz  keep  a-cunjurin'  up  how 
she  looked  w'en  she  foun'  dat  cal'bash  on  de  groun'  an' 
de  marks  o'  white  man's  shoes  in  de  san'.  Well,  boy,  I 
don'  rightly  know  how  I  came  down  yere,  but  de  fust  I 
'member  'bout  Plymouf  is  a-settin'  on  a  leetly  creepy- 
stool  in  de  chimbly  corner  inside  yere,  an'  maum  Phyl- 
lis a-rubbin  my  ban's,  rubbin'  em  good  "  — 

"  Lors,  yis,  honey,  an'  so  I  did,"  cried  Phyllis,  laugh- 
ing until  her  fat  sides  shook,  and  rocking  herself  back- 
ward and  forward  in  the  old  splint  chair,  which  creaked 
and  groaned  as  if  it  were  laughing  too. 

"  De  f rozenes'  lilly  nigger  eber  I  see,  —  jis  done  come 
offen  de  schooner  from  Bos'n,  an'  mos'  'bout  dead  wid 
cole,  an'  scare,  an'  mammy-sickness  !  " 

"  Lawd,  yes ! "  ejaculated  old  Pompey  solemnly. 
"Don'  pear's  dough  'twas  de  same  nigger  nohow." 

"  Den  maum  Phyllis  git  me  good  bowl  o'  hasty  pud'n 
an'  milk,  an'  a  piece  o'  ginger  cake,  an'  a  doughnut,  an 
I  donno  as  I 's  ben  hungry,  not  reel  downright  hungry, 
sence,  —  dey  was  so  fill'n.  Nex  ting  was,  mas'r  Doctor 
a-tryin'  an'  a-contrivin'  to  git  holt  o'  my  name,  an  w'en 
I  see  wot  he  wanted  I  tole  him  Quasho  Quando,  for  dat 
waz  wat  mammy  sez  w'en  she  gib  me  dat  cal'bash  to  go 
an'  fetch  some  water,  an'  I  s'pose  it  wuz  my  name ;  so 
I  sez  Quasho  Quando  ebery  time  mas'r  Doctor  spoke ; 
but  ebery  time  he 'd  shake  his  head  kind  o'  solemn  an' 
say,  '  No,  boy,  you  name  is  Jul'us  Caesar.  Now  wot 
you  name  ?  '  An'  I'd  say  Quasho  Quando.  Den  he 
gib  me  lilly  tap  side  de  head,  an'  say  berry  solemn  an' 


92     DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


stric',  *  Say  Jul'us  Caesar,  boy ! '  an'  I 'd  say  *  Quasho 
Quando,  mas'r/  'cause  Phyllis  had  teached  me  say  Mas'r 
an'  Mist'ss.  Well,  pore  ole  mas'r  he  contrive  an'  he 
conjur'  ebery  sort  ob  a  way  fer  to  make  me  outen 
Quashy  an'  inter  Jul'us,  but 't  wa'n't  a  mite  o'  use.  He 
sen'  me  ter  bed  widouten  supper,  an'  he  lick  me  some,  — 
drefltul  kin'  o'  sof'ly,  dough,  an'  he  show  me  an  ole  sojer 
hat  wid  feath's  into  it  dat  he 'd  gib  me,  an'  Lord  sake 
I  couldn'  begin  fer  to  tell  all  de  ways  he  wucked  an' 
wucked,  an'  one  way  wa'n't  no  better  dan  t'oder,  an'  at 
las'  he  gib  in,  an'  Quasho  Quando  "  — 

"  That 's  it.  Quash,  that 's  the  way  you  always  tell  it," 
broke  in  a  merry  voice,  as  two  little  girls  appeared  at 
the  door,  followed  by  a  tall  slender  maiden,  whose  dark 
eyes  and  hair,  and  complexion  rich  and  colorless  as  a 
magnolia  blossom,  were  the  reproduction  of  some  for- 
gotten strain  in  the  LeBaron  blood. 

"  Golly,  missy,  should  n'  scare  a  pore  nig'  dat  way !  " 
exclaimed  Quash,  lumbering  to  his  feet,  as  did  all  the 
rest,  although  Teresa  had  not  opened  her  lips,  and  the 
interruption  had  come  from  merry  little  Margaret,  who 
with  Priscilla,  her  grave  and  silent  sister,  leaned  forward 
out  of  the  black  background  of  the  kitchen  like  a  couple 
of  rosebuds  grouped  with  a  stately  lily. 

"  It  is  after  eleven,  Phyllis,"  said  Teresa,  in  a  voice 
harmonizing  with  her  complexion ;  but  at  that  moment 
the  sound  of  clattering  hoofs  and  whirling  wheels,  min- 
gled with  shrieks,  exclamations,  and  shouts,  arose  upon 
the  sultry  summer  air  in  strange  discordance  with  the 
hour  and  scene. 

The  negroes  dashed  around  the  corner  of  the  house 
and  out  into  the  street,  while  Teresa  and  her  little  sis- 
ters ran  hastily  to  the  front  to  look  through  the  great 
bow-window  filling  one  end  of  the  keeping-room. 


CHAPTER  X. 


MOTHER  CREWE  AT  WORK  ;  AND  HOW  TO  MAKE  CHEESE- 
CAKES. 

Probably  the  LeBaron  boys  were  no  worse  than 
other  boys,  but  they  managed  to  be  more  conspicuous 
in  their  naughtiness  than  their  neighbors ;  so  that  when 
any  notorious  piece  of  mischief,  such  as  cutting  the  rope 
of  the  church  bell,  putting  pins  in  the  schoolmaster's 
chair,  or  laying  trains  of  gunpowder  to  explode  under 
the  feet  of  the  tithingman  as  he  pursued  Sunday  loi- 
terers down  some  alley,  or  round  some  corner,  came  to 
the  public  notice,  everybody  asked  :  — 

"  Was  it  Frank,  or  Lem,  or  Bill  ?  " 

A  few  years  earlier,  they  had  said,  "  Bart  or  Isaac, 
—  which  was  it  ?  "  But  now,  Bartlett  was  distinguish- 
ing himself  at  Harvard,  where  some  stories,  too  amusing 
to  print,  still  linger  around  his  memory;  and  Isaac, 
having  donned  the  toga  virilisy  and  begun  to  study  with 
his  father,  as  had  his  two  step-brothers,  Lazarus  and 
Joseph,  felt  in  a  manner  compelled  to  lay  aside  childish 
things,  and  devote  his  sparkling  sense  of  fun  to  the 
amusement  of  the  young  ladies,  especially  Martha  How- 
land,  whose  society  he  much  frequented.  But  Francis, 
Lemuel,  and  William,  aged  respectively  thirteen,  eleven, 
and  nine,  had  come  under  no  obligations  as  yet,  except 
to  extract  the  maximum  of  fun  from  the  minimum  of 
penalty,  and  devoted  all  their  leisure  time  to  a  process 


94      DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


discovered  long  before  their  day,  although  not  until 
long  after  did  it  become  picturesquely  known  as  "  paint- 
ing the  town  red.'* 

So  when  Josiah  Cook,  wandering  home  one  day  about 
noon,  had  to  stumble  very  fast  out  of  the  road  to  es- 
cape a  horse  attached  to  a  light  carriage,  and  with  a 
thrifty  burdock  plant  attached  to  him,  which  he  kept  in 
place  by  the  pressure  of  his  own  tail,  the  man  ex- 
claimed wrathfuUy,  —  "  Them  LeBaron  boys  !  "  and 
stood  staring  after  the  runaway,  while  the  horse,  dash- 
ing along  School  Street  and  through  Town  Square, 
turned  the  sharp  corner  into  Main  Street  just  as  a  little 
boy  set  out  to  cross  it,  and,  hearing  the  horse,  faltered, 
turned  back,  stood  still,  and  as  he  wavered  was  over- 
taken by  swift  destruction,  for  the  horse,  swerving  as  he 
saw  him,  upset  the  carriage,  fell  down  himself,  and 
crushed  the  child  beneath  the  wheel,  while  the  flying 
hoofs  threatened  a  yet  more  terrible  catastrophe. 

"  Save  him !  oh,  somebody  save  my  little  brother ! 
screamed  a  girl's  voice,  and  a  slender,  ill-clad  figure 
darted  across  the  street  and  into  the  midst  of  that 
plunging  disaster,  but  was  captured  and  held  back  by 
the  strong  arm  of  a  young  man  who  at  sound  of  danger 
had  rushed  out  from  the  Bunch  of  Grapes  hard  at  hand. 

"  Here,  somebody  !  Bear  a  hand  and  hold  this  girl !  " 
shouted  he ;  and  Isaac  LeBaron  springing  forward, 
caught  the  struggling  figure,  while  the  first  comer,  raising 
the  wheel  by  a  prodigious  exertion  held  it  up  with  one 
hand  and  managed  to  drag  the  child  out  with  the  other. 

"  Cut  that  horse  free,  some  of  you,  can't  you  ? " 
roared  he,  as  at  the  last  moment  a  hoof  caught  him 
upon  the  leg  and  nearly  broke  it ;  but  still  he  clung  to 
his  helpless  burden,  and  with  free  use  of  his  elbows  ex- 


MOTHER  CREWE  AT  WORK.  95 


tricated  himself  from  the  crowd  already  gathered,  and 
quite  able  to  attend  to  the  horse. 

"  Take  the  child  into  the  Bunch  of  Grapes 

*^  No,  carry  him  right  home  !  " 

"  Bring  him  into  my  house,  and  come  you  too, 
Samson." 

At  sound  of  this  last  voice,  everybody  looked  around 
with  an  air  of  relief  ;  for  Doctor  LeBaron  stood  next  to 
Providence  in  the  minds  of  many  a  one  there,  and  now 
that  he  had  joined  the  group  all  seemed  ready  to  leave 
the  responsibility  with  him. 

"  This  way,  Samson,  and  you  too,  Yetmercy,"  ordered 
he  briefly,  leading  the  way  to  a  little  surgery,  added  in 
the  later  years  to  the  northwestern  corner  of  his  house. 

Shutting  and  bolting  the  door  in  face  of  all  but  the 
two  he  had  bidden,  the  doctor  laid  the  child  upon  a 
couch,  and  hastily  examined  his  hurts,  the  poor  Uttle 
fellow  moaning  faintly,  but  remaining  unconscious. 

"  Bad  —  hm  —  Yetmercy,  go  round  to  my  kitchen 
and  tell  Phyllis  to  come  here  with  some  hot  water  and 
towels  —  pshaw,  child,  you  're  fit  for  nothing !  Sim, 
you  go  —  you  '11  find  the  kitchen,  and  call  the  biggest 
negro  woman  Phyllis  —  tell  her  hot  water  and  towels !  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  and  Simeon  Samson  hastened  away  upon 
his  errand,  while  Yetmercy,  weak  and  emotional  as 
Molly  Peach,  her  mother,  sat  upon  the  floor  and  wept 
unrestrainedly. 

The  doctor,  busy  over  his  patient,  glanced  compassion- 
ately at  her  from  time  to  time,  and  finally  asked :  — 

"  Which  one  is  this,  Yetmercy  ?  What 's  his  name, 
and  how  old  ?  " 

"  Ich-a-bod,  —  he 's  s^v-SQven  !  "  sobbed  the  girl. 


96    DK  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


"  Well,  don't  you  care  anything  about  Ichabod,  nop 
about  your  mother  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  c-c-care  —  oh  —  oh  " — 

"  If  you  cared  any  way  worth  having,  you 'd  try  to  do 
something  for  the  boy,  instead  of  sitting  there  and 
howling.  I  want  somebody  to  help  me  get  off  these 
clothes,  and  there 's  nobody  but  you,  and  you  're  no  use, 
none  at  all." 

"  111  try,  sir,  but  mother  says  I 'm  awful  —  er  — er  — 
tender-hearted,"  and  Yetmercy,  rising,  wiped  her  eyes, 
smoothed  her  hair  with  trembling  fingers,  and  meekly 
stood  ready  to  obey  the  directions  of  the  doctor,  who  re- 
warded her  with  a  pleasant  smile,  and  "  That 's  right, 
my  lass  !  now  take  hold  of  this  coat  and  draw  it  gently 
out  as  I  raise  him  —  there,  now  !  " 

"  Here  we  are,  Doctor, —  Phyllis,  and  hot  water,  and 
swabs,  and  a  young  fellow  "  — 

"  Oh,  it 's  you,  Isaac.  Well,  come  in  and  make  your- 
self useful.  Sit  you  down,  Samson,  and  I  'U  look  at  that 
leg  presently." 

Poor  little  Ichabod  !  The  glory  of  life  had  indeed  de- 
parted from  his  existence,  for,  besides  a  broken  hip, 
there  was  an  injury  to  the  spine,  for  which  the  best  hope 
was  that  it  might  soon  be  fatal. 

"  He  '11  never  leave  his  bed  again  until  he  is  carried 
from  it  to  Burying  Hill,"  said  the  doctor  in  Samson's 
ear,  as  he  fingered  and  looked  at  the  cut  upon  the  young 
man's  leg.  "  No  bones  broken  here,  but  you'll  not  get  to 
the  main-truck  very  easily  for  some  weeks.  Stay  and 
have  some  dinner  with  us,  Samson.  I  want  to  hear 
about  your  voyage." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,  I  '11  be  proud  to,"  replied  Samson 
cordially  as  the  vision  of  a  sweet  pale  face  and  gi'eat 


MOTHER  CREWE  AT  WORK. 


97 


dark  eyes,  just  seen  in  the  depths  of  the  hall  daring 
his  late  errand,  flashed  upon  his  memory. 

"  Now,  Isaac,  that  stretcher,  and  get  Prince  and  Quash 
round  to  carry  it.  You  and  I  will  go  along  too,  and 
see  that  it  moves  steadily." 

"  Dinner 'sjes  ready,  mas'r,''  interposed  Phyllis,  more 
respectfully  than  she  ever  spoke  to  any  one  else,  "  an'  de 
chile  kin  lay  here  an'  me  to  take  keer  of  him  widout 
hurtin'  nobuddy  fer  an'  hour  er  so." 

"  Very  well,  and  perhaps  better,  for  you  can  go  home, 
Yetmercy,  and  have  a  bed  ready  downstairs,  and  get 
your  mother  somewhat  prepared  before  we  reach  there. 
Now  show  yourself  a  brave  little  woman,  and  remember 
that 's  the  way  to  let  us  know  you  really  care  for  your 
little  brother." 

So  Yetmercy,  her  great  blue  eyes  swimming  in  tears, 
although  she  managed  to  restrain  her  sobs,  set  out  for 
home,  while  Isaac  hastily  followed  her  for  a  few  steps, 
and  then  turned  back  to  his  dinner. 

In  spite  of  Phyllis's  morning  lounge  this  meal  proved 
an  admirable  one,  consisting  of  a  great  piece  of  ala- 
mode  beef,  sweet  potatoes,  and  turnips,  cauliflower  en- 
veloped in  a  fair  mantle  of  cream  sauce,  and  pickles 
both  of  native  and  West  Indian  production. 

Following  this  was  a  rice  Florinda,  a  dish  of  cheese- 
cakes, and  fruit  in  a  curiously  wrought  basket  of  Delft 
ware. 

And  just  in  passing  let  me  copy  for  you,  from  Lydia 
LeBaron's  manuscript  recipe-book,  the  rule  by  which 
those  cheese-cakes  were  made ;  for  it  solves  the  question 
most  of  us  modern  weaklings  have  asked  ourselves  as  to 
the  meaning  of  the  name  as  applied  to  the  vapid  cates 
passing  among  us  for  cheese-cakes. 


98    DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


TO  MAKE  CHEESE-CAKES. 

Take  a  quart  of  milk,  and  boyle  it.  Beat  six  Eggs 
and  pore  in  while  it  boyles.  Then  take  it  off  the  fyre, 
and  let  it  stand  till  its  a  tender  Curd.  Then  strayne  it 
thro  a  sive,  put  in  a  quarter  of  a  pound  of  Butter,  gill 
of  Wine,  two  spoonfuUs  of  Rosewater,  mace  beat  fine. 
Strow  in  some  Currants  and  sweeten  it  to  your  tast. 
Bake  them  in  small  pate-pans  with  puff  past  round 
them.    None  over  the  Top. 

And  so  in  the  "  tender  Curd  "  we  have  the  idea  of 
cheese^  now  forgotten. 

Simeon  Samson  thought  them  as  delicious  as  the 
young  gentleman  in  "  The  Arabian  Nights  "  did  the 
cream  tarts,  for  his  host,  in  offering  them,  said :  — 

"  Have  one  of  Tressy's  cheese-cakes.  She 's  a  famous 
hand  at  them,  'most  as  good  as  her  sister  Lyddy. 
You  're  sailing  for  Lyddy 's  husband  now,  aren't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.  I 'm  to  command  Goodwin  &  Warren's 
brigantine,  Lydia,  next  voyage,"  replied  the  sailor,  steal- 
ing a  look  at  Teresa  to  see  if  she  heard  of  his  promo- 
tion. 

"  Yes.  Nat  named  her  for  his  wife  and  daughter. 
Lyddy 's  a  favorite  name  in  our  family ;  I  wived  two  of 
them.  Now,  then.  Quash,  clear  away  these  things  and 
serve  the  coffee,  for  I 'm  in  a  hurry  to  get  up  to 
Ring's.  Tressy,  let  us  have  the  cauliflower  cups  in  honor 
of  Captain  Samson." 

"  Not  captain  yet.  Doctor." 

"  Pshaw,  boy  !  take  all  the  credit  you  can  get,  if  only 
for  what  you  mean  to  do.  You  may  never  live  to  do  it, 
you  know." 


MOTHER  CREWE  AT  WORK,  99 


"  If  you  will  excuse  me,  father,"  said  the  dulcet  voice 
Samson  had  as  yet  scarce  heard,  "  I  will  fetch  the  cauli- 
flower cups  myself,  since  Phyllis  is  not  at  hand." 

"  As  you  like,  daughter.  A  careful  little  housekeeper, 
you  see,  Captain." 

"  Nothing  becomes  a  young  gentlewoman  more,  to  my 
mind,"  replied  Samson  ardently,  and  the  doctor  laughed, 
well  pleased,  while  Teresa,  a  slight  color  showing 
through  her  creamy  pallor,  left  the  room,  and  presently 
returned,  preceded  by  young  Pomp,  who  opened  and 
closed  the  doors  while  she  carefully  carried  a  wonderful 
carved  tortoise-shell  tray  filled  with  cups,  saucers, 
"sugar-dish  "  and  slop-basin  of  some  forgotten  but  most 
precious  pottery,  each  piece  shaped  with  Dutch  patience 
and  loving  zeal  into  the  semblance  of  a  half-opened 
cauliflower,  apotheosis  to  the  artist's  mind,  no  doubt,  of 
his  beloved  cabbage. 

Placing  these  upon  the  table,  Teresa  quietly  seated 
herself  behind  them,  and  poured  for  the  guest  a  cup  of 
some  nectar  whose  nature  he  could  not  have  described, 
until  his  host,  pushing  a  little  decanter  toward  him, 
said  :  — 

"  Lace  your  coffee  with  a  drop  of  old  Cognac,  Cap- 
tain. 'T  is  a  fashion  I  learned  in  Paris,  and  have  never 
forgot.  And  for  that  matter,  't  is  rather  a  foreign  fash- 
ion to  take  coffee  after  dinner,  but  I  like  it,  and  find  it 
a  good  stomachic.    What  think  you  ?  " 

"  'T  is  the  best  I  ever  tasted,"  replied  Samson,  gulp- 
ing down  the  coffee  so  hot  that  it  brought  tears  to  his 
eyes,  and  never  seeing  the  decanter  of  Cognac.  Again 
the  doctor's  eyes  twinkled,  and  pushing  back  his  chair 
he  said :  — 

"  Well,  I  must  be  off.   Come  along,  Isaac.  Samson, 


100     DR.  LeBAEON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


don't  hurry  yourself,  especially  as  you  are  wounded. 
Tarry  where  you  are  for  a  while,  and  Teresa  will  give 
you  a  tune  on  her  spinet,  or,  if  you  like  it  better,  play 
you  a  game  of  draughts  or  backgammon.  I  leave  him 
in  your  charge,  Tressjo" 


CHAPTER  XI- 


MOTHER  CREWE  IS  PLEASED. 

Ik  a  wretched  hovel  upon  the  Carver  road  lived  anj 
died  the  family  of  Ansel  Ring  and  his  wife  Molly,  con- 
sisting, besides  the  parents,  of  three  girls  with  one 
brother  older,  and  one,  poor  little  Ichabod,  younger 
than  themselves.  Ansel,  not  much  daunted  at  first  by 
mother  Crewe's  curse,  had  pursued  his  seafaring  life, 
and  as  he  was  a  strong,  sober,  and  able-bodied  seaman 
had  no  trouble  in  getting  employment  from  one  or  other 
of  the  firms  of  shipping-merchants  of  Plymouth,  then 
carrying  on  an  active  commerce  with  all  parts  of  the 
world. 

But  his  fellow-sailors  were  also  many  of  them  his 
fellow-townsmen,  and  all  the  world  knows  how  the 
pressure  of  immensity  upon  a  sailor's  mind  generally 
results  in  superstition,  so  that  one  scarcely  wonders  that, 
after  two  or  three  fatal  mishaps  upon  the  vessels  rating 
Ansel  Ring  as  Al  seaman,  some  of  the  other  Plymouth 
men  muttered  the  story  of  the  curse  to  those  who  had 
not  heard  it,  and  others  spoke  menacingly  of  Jonahs 
who  should  be  heaved  overboard  ;  and  the  mates,  gather- 
ing the  cause  of  moody  looks  and  dark  hints,  carried  them 
to  the  captains,  who  laughed  grimly  and  swore  contemp- 
tuously at  such  notions,  but  next  voyage  did  not  accept 
Ring's  somewhat  hang-dog  offer  of  his  services. 

At  last  came  a  day,  in  the  March  before  this  Septem* 


102    DK  LeBAEON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


ber,  when  the  Petrel,  a  coasting  schooner  of  the  Hedges, 
flew  round  the  Gurnet,  driven  before  a  furious  north- 
east gale,  and,  waiting  for  the  tide,  anchored  off  Dick's 
flat.  No  sooner  was  this  done  than  Ansel  Ring,  coming 
to  the  captain,  demanded  rather  than  requested  the  use 
of  a  boat  to  set  himself  ashore  upon  the  beach  ;  for,  as  he 
passionately  declared,  he  was  afraid  of  his  shipmates, 
and  could  no  longer  bear  the  "  marooning "  they  were 
practicing  upon  him. 

"  They  say  mother  Crewe  has  sent  this  gale  to  wreck 
the  hooker  here  in  port,  and  they  swear  if  our  anchor 
begins  to  drag  they'll  take  and  heave  me  overboard 
first  thing.  I 've  stood  all  I 'm  going  to  stand,  and  this 
is  the  last  time  you  '11  ever  see  me  afloat,  if  I  starve  for 
it.  Let  me  have  the  dingy,  Cap'n,  and  I  '11  leave  her 
safe  on  the  beach  yander  ;  or  if  you  don't,  I  '11  tumble 
overboard  and  make  an  end  of  it  some  way/' 

The  captain  opened  his  mouth  to  refuse  and  threaten 
confinement  in  irons,  but  catching  the  desperate  and 
hunted  look  upon  the  man's  face  suddenly  changed  his 
mind,  and  said  almost  gently  :  — 

"  Do  as  you  see  fit,  Ring,  but  neither  the  dingy  nor 
any  other  boat  can  live  in  that  surf.  Better  stick  it  out, 
man." 

"  Thank  y',  sir,"  replied  Ring,  the  hunted  look  soften- 
ing at  the  tone  of  human  sympathy  ;  but  it  came  too  late, 
and  after  a  moment's  hesitation  he  turned  away,  and  all 
unaided  began  to  lower  the  little  boat.  The  captain  also 
hesitated  for  a  moment,  then  turned  and  went  into  his 
cabin,  perhaps  saying  to  himself,  — 
Am  I  my  brother's  keeper  ?  " 

Well,  the  dingy  could  not  live  in  the  fury  of  the  surf 
breaking  thunderously  upon  Beach  Point,  and  as  the 


MOTHER  CREWE  IS  PLEASED.  103 


men  who  had  hounded  him  to  his  death  looked  on,  they 
saw  the  frail  craft  crushed  like  an  eggshell,  and  their 
comrade  snatched  out  and  made  the  plaything  of  that 
monster,  whose  voice  drowned  his  parting  cry,  if  indeed 
he  uttered  any.  Back  and  forward,  over  and  over,  up 
and  down,  that  white  Death  tossed  its  prey,  until,  tiref' 
of  the  sport,  it  flung  the  poor  battered,  broken,  and  oh, 
so  ghastly  a  plaything,  up  upon  the  beach,  the  stump  of 
an  oar  still  grasped  in  its  hand,  and  the  wreck  of  the 
dingy  strewed  beside  it,  as  if  in  bitter  gibe  at  raan's 
attempt  to  ride  in  safety  over  that  angry  sea. 

Very  silently,  when  the  storm  was  over,  those  seamen 
brought  the  body  of  their  Jonah  to  the  town,  and  to  the 
poor  home  where  his  wife  waited  for  him.  Upon  the 
threshold  they  met  mother  Crewe,  who,  somehow,  no- 
body ever  knew  how,  had  heard  the  evil  tidings  before 
any  one  else  in  town,  and  hastened  to  bring  them  to 
Molly  Ring. 

That  day  was  six  months  gone  by,  and  now,  as  the 
little  procession  bringing  poor  Ichabod  to  his  home  ap- 
proached the  house,  it  was  confronted  by  the  ominous 
figure  of  the  old  woman  suddenly  rising  from  the  door- 
step, where  she  had  awaited  its  coming. 

Molly  !  Molly  Peach  !  "  croaked  she,  striking  her 
staff  upon  the  stone,  "  come  out  and  welcome  your  child. 
The  foundations  of  the  cursed  city  were  laid  in  the 
blood  of  the  firstborn,  and  the  posts  were  set  up  in  the 
bones  of  the  youngest,  and  so  it  shall  be,  and  so  it  is, 
with  you !  " 

Isaac  LeBaron,  who  had  gone  a  little  in  advance  of 
the  litter,  which  his  father  followed  on  horseback,  heard 
the  words,  and  although  not  fully  understanding  them 
read  their  intent  upon  the  white,  scared  face  of  Yetr 


104    DR.  leBaron  and  his  daughters. 


mercy,  who  stood  in  the  doorway,  and  he  impetuously 
sprang  forth  as  her  champion. 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  mother  Crewe !  "  cried  he,  put- 
ting out  a  hand  to  remove  her  from  the  path.  "  What  a 
wicked  old  woman  you  are,  to  be  glad  of  other  folk's 
mishaps  !    Out  of  the  way,  I  say !  " 

"  Have  a  care,  Master  Isaac  !  Have  a  care !  Touch 
me  with  just  the  point  of  a  finger,  and  I  '11  wither  your 
arm  to  the  shoulder !  "  And  the  crone  fixed  upon  the 
young  man's  face  a  look  blazing  with  the  fires  of  insanity, 
or  of  demoniacal  possession,  as  folk  then  said,  and 
somewhat  in  that  look  struck  through  his  hot  young 
blood  like  the  blast  from  an  iceberg.  Quite  involunta- 
rily he  shrank  back,  and  the  old  woman  laughed  as  she 
strode  past. 

"  Yes,  have  a  care,  boy,  have  a  care !  She  has  blue 
eyes  and  pink  cheeks,  and  so  had  her  mother  before  her, 
but  she  is  under  the  curse,  and  it 's  catching,  catching  as 
small-pox.  Have  a  care,  Isaac  LeBaron,  have  a  care !  " 
And  as  she  rapidly  climbed  the  hill  beyond  the  cabin,  her 
mocking  laugh  came  back,  mingled  with  the  croak  of 
a  pair  of  crows  who  seemed  to  accompany  her. 

"  What  was  that  old  witch  saying,  Isaac  ?  "  asked  his 
father,  dismounting.  "  But  never  mind  now.  Is  the  bed 
all  ready,  Yetmercy  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  but  poor  mother,  she 's  fallen  down  on  it. 
She  felt  bad  enough,  and  then  mother  Crewe  came  and 
just  finished  her  up«" 

"  That  woman !  "  muttered  the  doctor,  hastening  into 
the  house,  followed  by  the  girl. 

Not  many  hours  later  a  dead  baby  was  born,  the 
last  of  Ansel  Ring's  doomed  children,  and  for  a  while 
it  seemed  as  if  his  mother  would  follow  him ;  but,  with 


MOTHER  CREWE  IS  PLEASED, 


105 


perhaps  unfortunate  skill,  Doctor  LeBaron  held  her 
to  life,  and  in  a  few  days  pronounced  her  safe,  and 
made  over  the  care  of  her  convalescence,  and  of  Icha- 
bod's  lingering  death-in-life,  to  Isaac,  who  largely  inher- 
ited the  family  skill  in  cliirurgery,  as  the  old  folk  still 
called  the  healing  art. 

And  Yetmercy,  caring  both  for  the  querulous  mother 
and  the  suffering  brother,  who  slowly  lapsed  from  bad 
to  worse,  still  found  her  labors  lightened  and  her  heart 
cheered  marvelously  by  the  visits  of  the  young  doctor, 
and  the  brief  moments  through  which  ho  lingered  after 
the  visits  were  over. 

Mother  Crewe,  who  in  some  obscure  fashion  had  re- 
moved from  Plympton  to  Plymouth,  and  gained  posses- 
sion of  a  little  hut  upon  the  edge  of  Carver  woods,  per- 
haps to  be  near  enough  to  overlook  the  working  of  her 
curse,  watched  the  progress  of  this  intimacy ;  some- 
times listening  under  the  windows  as  the  evenings  grew 
long  and  misty,  sometimes  hovering  among  the  hillside 
thickets  above  the  house,  sometimes  suddenly  appearing 
in  the  path  of  the  young  couple,  as  Yetmercy  strolled 
down  the  road,  hearing  the  doctor's  last  words,  and 
asking  some  simple  question  over  and  over,  just  to  post- 
pone the  good-by. 

At  these  times  the  old  woman  never  spoke,  in  fact 
rather  avoided  giving  the  opportunity  for  speech,  but 
the  baleful  light  of  those  cavernous  eyes,  and  the  malig- 
nant glee  of  the  half-heard  laugh  floating  back  when 
she  had  passed,  so  chilled  the  simple  girl's  blood  that 
more  than  once  she  clung  crying  to  the  arm  of  her 
companion,  who,  in  the  pride  of  his  young  manhood, 
promised  to  shield  her  from  all  harm  and  all  enemies. 

Had  Doctor  Lazarus  LeBaron  been  as  vigilant  in  this 


106   DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


matter  as  mother  Crewe,  much  woe  might  have  heen 
averted  from  his  house,  but  two  important  matters  at 
this  time  distracted  his  attention. 

The  first  was,  that  Nathaniel  Goodwin,  husband  of 
Lydia,  having  made  a  good  deal  of  money  in  the  course 
of  commerce,  became  able,  as  he  always  had  been  will- 
ing, to  give  his  wife  a  home  worthy  of  what  they  both 
agreed  were  her  merits,  and  suggesting  the  idea  to  his 
father-in-law  received  the  unexpected  answer  :  — 

"  Give  her  this,  if  you  like.'' 

"  What,  your  own  house,  Doctor  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I 'm  tired  of  it.  Three  Lyddys  have  gone 
out  of  it,  and  left  it  too  empty.  I  sha'n't  marry  again, 
and  —  well,  in  point  of  fact,  Nat,  the  house  I 'm  build- 
ing there  on  Cole's  Hill,  over  the  cellar  of  the  old  Cot- 
ton parsonage,  is  where  I  mean  to  live." 

"  Oh  ! exclaimed  Nat,  a  good  deal  surprised  ;  for  it 
had  been  the  doctor's  whim  to  keep  his  intentions 
strictly  to  himself,  and  everybody,  even  Return  Waite, 
of  whom  he  bought  the  old  Cotton  parsonage,  supposed 
that  the  new  house  going  up  on  its  site  would  be  sold 
or  leased. 

So  Lydia  Goodwin  came  back  to  reign  in  the  house 
where  she  had  reigned  as  Lydia  LeBaron,  and  the 
doctor,  with  his  four  remaining  daughters  and  the  four 
sons  of  his  second  marriage,  went  to  live  on  Cole's  Hill, 
next  to  Giles  Rickard,  whom  the  doctor  quietly  divided 
from  himself  by  an  open  way,  still  called  LeBaron's 
Alley.  Building  this  house  at  his  leisure  and  after  his 
ovm  plans,  the  doctor's  first  care  was  to  provide  himself 
with  a  study  the  exact  counterpart  of  the  old  one ;  and 
the  night  before  the  general  Hegira,  he  packed  all  the 
contents  of  that  mysterious  chamber  with   his  own 


MOTHER  CREWE  IS  PLEASED. 


107 


hands,  allowing  Quasho  to  help  him  carry  the  heavy 
furniture  downstairs  and  place  it  in  the  cart  at  the 
door.  Before  morning,  all  was  duly  arranged  in  the 
new  room  precisely  as  it  had  been  in  the  old,  the  lock 
removed  from  the  one  door  to  the  other,  and  the  same 
key  turned  and  deposited  safely  in  the  pocket  of  the 
doctor's  smallclothes. 

**Now,  Quasho  Quando,"  said  the  doctor,  as  master 
and  man  came  out  of  the  new  house  and  walked  beside 
the  cart  toward  their  old  home,  "  you  are  never,  never, 
mind  you,  to  your  dying  day,  to  tell  any  one  what  you 
and  I  have  been  about  to-night.  If  you  do,  I  shall  be 
sure  to  know  it,  and  that  flogging  promised  you  for  so 
many  years  will  come  at  last." 

"Ain't  mite  'fraid  dat  floggin',"  replied  Quasho  con- 
fidently, —  "  mas'r  an  I 's  got  too  ole  an'  'spectable  for 
any  sech  doin's :  but,"  with  a  sudden  change  of  voice, 

reckon  mas'r  kin  trust  me  widout  any  dat  kin'  o'  talk." 

The  doctor  stopped  and  held  out  his  hand  in  the  dim 
starlight. 

"  Quash,"  said  he,  "  I  beg  your  pardon." 

"  Oh,  Lord,  mas'r,  don't  —  don't  ye,  now,"  quavered 
the  poor  fellow,  and  off  came  his  old  hat,  and  down  on 
his  knees  he  went  in  the  dust  to  kiss  the  hand  which 
had  never  once  been  seriously  raised  against  him. 

"  Good-night,  boy,"  was  all  the  doctor  said,  as  he  softly 
let  himself  into  the  house,  but  master  and  man  were 
closer  friends  from  that  night. 

The  second  cause  detaining  the  doctor  from  proper 
supervision  of  his  assistant  was  something  more  tragic 
than  this  episode. 

One  of  the  coasting  schooners  always  dodging  in  and 
out  of  Plymouth,  one  day  left  a  sick  sailor  ashore,  and 


108    DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


Doctor  LeBaron,  when  called  to  consider  his  case, 
looked  very  blank  over  it,  and  presently  had  to  confide 
to  his  brother  selectmen  that  here  was  another  case  of 
small-pox,  a  scourge  under  which  Plymouth  had  al- 
ready suffered  grievously,  and  which  was  the  more  to 
be  dreaded  that  most  men  in  that  day  considered  it 
useless  to  contend  against  it,  while  many  thought  it  im- 
pious to  try. 

Doctor  Zabdiel  Boylston,  of  Boston,  had  some  years 
before  this  time  attempted  to  introduce  the  practice  of 
inoculation,  a  movement  of  science  brought  by  Lady 
Mary  Wortley  Montagu  from  the  East  to  England, 
where  she  herself  practiced  it  upon  as  many  persons  as 
would  submit. 

But  Lady  Mary  was  a  woman,  and  was  not  a  Puri- 
tan, and  Boston  folk  would  none  of  her ;  in  fact,  so  ill 
did  they  receive  Doctor  Boylston's  attempt  to  imitate 
her  practice  that  they  decided  hanging  was  the  best 
remedy  for  such  unnatural  propensities,  and  would 
probably  have  carried  out  their  decision  in  his  case,  had 
not  the  Reverend  Cotton  Mather,  a  man  not  ordinarily 
erring  upon  the  side  of  mercy,  stood  forth  in  his  de- 
fense, and  offered  himself  and  all  his  family  as  subjects 
for  the  new  treatment. 

Now  Doctor  Lazarus  LeBaron  was  a  friend  of  Doc- 
tor Boylston 's  and  often  rode  or  sailed  to  Boston  to 
confer  with  him.  He  did  so  several  times  during  the 
inoculation  excitement,  and  was  well  inclined  to  adopt 
it ;  but  at  the  first  suggestion  of  such  a  thing  in  his  na- 
tive town,  he  perceived  that  the  time  was  not  yet  ripe 
for  it.  In  fact,  Parson  Leonard  scrupled  not  to  say 
that  much  learning  had  made  the  doctor  mad,  and  had 
opened  the  door  for  a  malignant  spirit  to  enter  in,  and 


MOTHER  CREWE  IS  PLEASED,  109 


fill  his  mind  with  homicidal  projects ;  and  in  a  private 
interview,  the  good  man  solemnly  recited  a  form  of  ex- 
orcism over  the  head  of  his  deluded  brother,  and  for- 
mally consigned  to  his  proper  abode  the  fiend  who  was 
tempting  him  to  blasphemous  rebellion  against  the  fore- 
ordained  chastisements  of  the  Almighty.^ 

Whether  the  fiend  went  whither  he  was  sent  we  can» 
not  tell,  but  certainly  the  doctor  said  nothing  more 
about  inoculation  for  a  good  many  years,  one  reason 
being  that  the  small-pox  capriciously  deserted  Plym- 
outh as  suddenly  as  it  had  appeared.  But  the  arrival 
of  this  sick  sailor,  and  the  anxiety  as  to  what  might  be 
the  sequel  of  the  affair,  brought  back  to  the  doctor's 
mind  all  his  old  doubts  and  scruples  about  neglecting 
what  might  be,  and  indeed  probably  was,  a  powerful 
means  of  defense  against  this  terrible  foe. 

The  sick  man,  already  delirious,  was  carried  by  night 
to  a  lonely  cabin  on  the  edge  of  the  woods  in  Oberry,  a 
by-corner  of  the  town,  and  great  wages  were  offered  by 
the  selectmen  to  any  woman  who  would  undertake  to 
care  for  him.  The  next  day,  the  doctor,  going  with 
many  precautions  to  visit  his  patient,  found  mother 
Crewe  sitting  beside  him. 

"  You  !  "  exclaimed  he,  in  a  voice  of  unconcealed  dis- 
may. 

"  Me,  sure  enough,"  croaked  the  hag,  with  her  raven 
laugh.  "  And  why  not  ?  I 'm  as  good  a  nuss  as  most, 
ain't  I  ?  Was  n't  my  gal  nussed  well  ?  And  I 've  had 
the  small-pox  as  thorough  as  a  woman  could  have  it 
and  live.    Why  not  me  ?  " 

"  Well,  if  you  do  your  duty  by  this  poor  fellow,  and 
keep  away  from  everybody  else,"  replied  th'^  doctor, 
1  A  fact. 


110    DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


reluctantly  ;  and  hurriedly  making  his  examination  and 
leaving  some  medicines,  with  an  injunction  to  keep  the 
patient  warmly  covered,  and  not  to  allow  a  breath  of 
fresh  air  to  reach  him,  he  took  his  leave,  returning,  not 
to  the  bosom  of  his  family,  but  to  the  study,  where  he 
lived  in  strict  seclusion  until  this  case  should  be  de- 
cided. 

And  so  soon  as  it  is,"  said  the  doctor  aloud,  as  he 
paced  his  lonely  room  up  and  down,  "  T  will  go  to 
Boston,  see  Boylston,  and  get  some  of  the  virus  he 
speaks  of  gathering  now  from  kine ;  he  will  teach  me 
how  to  apply  it,  and  if  no  one  else  in  Plymouth  is  safe 
my  children  shall  be." 

The  sound  of  horse's  feet  halting  before  his  house 
led  him  to  the  window. 

A  handsome  if  somewhat  masculine  girl  was  dis- 
mounting at  the  door. 

"  Yes,  Tressy  shall  be  safe  if  I  can  make  her  so," 
said  the  doctor,  staring  absently  at  the  visitor,  whom  he 
did  not  know. 

And  Lachesis  smiled  at  Clotho,  as  the  one  twisted  in 
her  black  thread  and  the  other  span  it. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


THE  COURSE  OF  TRUE  LOVB. 

Could  Doctor  LeBaron,  as  he  looked  moodily  from 
his  study  window  upon  the  horse  and  rider  stopping  at 
his  door,  have  known  the  message  and  foreseen  the  re- 
sult of  that  visit,  his  calm  indifference  might  well  have 
changed  to  a  passion  of  grief  and  dismay. 

And  yet  the  steed  was  a  goodly  one,  not  black,  but 
cheerful  sorrel,  and  the  rider  was  young  and  comely, 
albeit  somewhat  of  the  Judith,  or  Jael,  or  Deborah 
style  of  beauty ;  indeed,  her  name  was  Deborah,  and  she 
looked  it  more  fairly  than  most  of  us  do  our  names  ;  a 
fine  figure,  too,  tall  and  well  set  up,  with  a  round  supple 
waist  and  flat  back,  and  large  well-shapen  hands,  whose 
grasp  upon  the  rein  no  sensible  horse  would  ever  try  to 
dispute. 

Looking  about  her  a  little,  this  fair  Amazon  presently 
espied  a  kinky  head,  and  pair  of  beady  eyes  surveying 
her  around  the  corner  of  the  house,  and  promptly  hailed 
them. 

"  Here,  boy  !  I  want  you." 

"  Yes,  mist'ss  ; "  and  young  Pompey,  adding  a  pleas- 
ing grin  to  his  other  attractions,  sauntered  out  of  the 
alley  where  he  had  hid  for  purposes  of  his  own. 

"  Is  Mistress  Teresa  LeBaron  at  home  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mist'ss.  Mis'  Tressy  jus'  done  gone  upsta'rs." 

"Well,  take  my  horse  and  open  the  front  door,  and 
tell  her  that  a  gentlewoman  craves  to  speak  with  her." 


112     DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


"  Shorely,  mist'ss.  Walk  right  in,  dis  a  way,  an'  set 
down.  I  '11  take  the  hoss  roun',  an'  send  word  to  Mis' 
Tressy." 

Having  established  the  visitor  in  the  parlor  and  the 
horse  in  the  shed,  young  Pompey  strolled  into  the 
kitchen,  to  assuage  that  thirst  for  information  which 
was  one  of  his  leading  characteristics. 

"  S'pose  you  done  tole  Mis'  Tressy  'bout  de  lady  dat 
come  fer  ter  see  her,  mammy  ?  "  began  he. 

"  Uncle  Quash  tole  her,"  replied  Phyllis  with  brev- 
ity, as  she  deftly  shoveled  her  pies  into  the  brick  oven, 
whose  heat  she  had  just  tested  by  sprinkling  some  flour 
upon  the  bottom. 

"  An'  how  d'  y'  call  her,  unc'  Quash  ?  " 

"  How  does  I  call  her  uncle  Quash  !  Wy,  I  does  n' 
call  her  any  such  ting.     Dat  my  name,  not  hern." 

"  Well,  w'at  is  her  name,  den  ?  " 
Ah !  W'y  did  n'  yer  ask  dat  honest  in  de  fus'  place, 
boy  ?    AUuz  be  hones',  'cause  dat's  de  bes'  policy. 
Now  ef  you 'd  'a'  asked  honest,  mabbe  I 'd  'a'  told 
yer"  — 

"  No,  you  would  n'.  I  know  you  better,"  retorted 
young  Pomp,  in  so  aggrieved  a  tone  that  his  mother  in- 
terposed. 

"  Go  'long,  now.  Quash  !  W'at  for 's  you  alluz  pla- 
guin'  dat  young  one  ?  W'at 's  de  young  mist'ss  name, 
anyhow  ?  " 

"  W'y,  aun'  Phyllis,  I 'd  tell  yer  in  a  minit,  if  I 
knowed  it,  but  I  don' ;  all  she  said  w'en  I  went  in  de 
parlor  was,  '  Please  tell  Mistress  Teresa  LeBaron  that 
a  gentlewoman  would  like  to  speak  with  her.' " 

Jes'  wat  she  said  to  me,"  remarked  young  Pomp. 

"  Mabbe  't  was  Mist'ss  Hetty  Lord  from  Kingston," 


THE  COURSE  OF  TRUE  LOVE.  113 


suggested  Prince,  who  had  just  come  in  upon  an  errand 
from  Mistress  Lydia  Goodwin,  whose  servant  he  now 
was. 

Mist'ss  Hetty  Lord  !  "  echoed  Quash  meditatively. 
"  Well,  mabbe  ; 't  ain't  to  be  'spected  a  pore  sinful  nigger 
like  me  will  know  any  of  de  Lord's  fam'ly  by  sight, 
but  I 's  mighty  glad  ef  He 's  sent  to  fotch  one  of  mas'r's 
gals,  for  I  swear  de  debble  '11  git  all  de  boys." 

"  Go  long  wid  yer,  boy !  "  exclaimed  Phyllis,  in 
buxom  wrath.  "  '  T  is  easy  'nough  ter  see  you  wa'n't 
nebber  converted.  Go  wait  on  de  door  w'en  de  young 
mist'ss  goes  out ;  an'  Pomp,  as  soon  as  she 's  took  her 
horse,  you  tackle  up  Whitefoot  in  de  wagon,  and  go 
long  up  to  Souf  Pond  an'  git  me  a  bar'l  of  white  sand 
for  my  floors.    I  tole  you  dat  dis  mornin'." 

"A  lady  to  see  me,"  murmured  Teresa,  stepping 
lightly  down  the  stair.    "  Who  can  it  be  !  " 

Nor  was  the  question  answered  as  she  entered  the 
great  square  parlor,  looking  easterly  to  the  sea  and  north- 
erly to  Captain's  Hill,  its  furniture  and  arrangements 
as  nearly  as  possible  a  reproduction  of  the  room  where 
Squire  Lothrop  and  James  Warren  had  awaited  the 
doctor  some  years  before. 

Instead  of  those  stately  gentlemen,  the  slender  figure 
of  a  girl,  her  rather  remarkable  height  accented  by 
her  close-fitting  riding  habit,  stood  motionless  at  one  of 
the  eastern  windows,  gazing  so  steadfastly  upon  the  sea 
that  she  did  not  heed  the  gentle  entrance  of  her  hostess, 
until  the  latter  said  :  — 

"You  wish  to  see  me,  madam  ?  " 

"  Ah !  "  and  turning  suddenly,  the  stranger  showed 
a  dark  face,  undeniably  handsome,  but  somewhat  over- 
determined  and  powerful  for  so  young  a  woman,  since 


114     DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


she  could  hardly  have  seen  more  than  twenty  birthdays. 
"  You  are  Mistress  Teresa  LeBaron  ?  " 
"  Yes/' 

"  And  I  am  Deborah  Gushing,  of  Hingham.  Master 
Gushing  of  the  school  here  is  my  brother,  and  Seth 
Gushing  is  my  father." 

"I  —  we  know  Master  Gushing  a  little,"  said  Teresa 
faltering,  "  I  am  afraid  my  brothers  give  him  a  vast  of 
trouble ;  perhaps  he  has  sent  you  "  — 

The  stranger  laughed  a  little  harshly.  "  Sent  me  to 
chide  you  for  your  brothers'  misdeeds  !  "  exclaimed  she. 
"  Well,  no,  not  just  that.  I  came  on  my  own  occasions 
—  and  yours." 

^'  Will  you  sit  down  ?  "  said  Teresa,  pointing  to  one  of 
the  great  square  armchairs  standing  sentinel-like  each 
side  of  the  hearth.  ^'  I  —  I  shall  be  very  glad  "  —  Some- 
thing in  her  throat  choked  the  utterance,  and  sinking 
into  the  chair  opposite  that  of  her  guest  she  looked  wist- 
fully into  her  face,  while  the  color  sank  from  her  own, 
even  to  the  lips.  Deborah  Gushing  regarded  her  atten- 
tively, almost  scornfully. 

"  You  try  to  say  you  will  be  very  glad  to  pleasure 
me  if  you  can,  and  some  fright  at  your  own  words 
chokes  them  back  again.    Is  it  not  so  ?  " 

"  Yes.    How  can  you  tell  ?  " 

"  Lord,  child,  I  read  it  on  your  face  like  print,  and 
glad  am  I  not  to  be  of  so  pliable  a  make.  Pluck  up  a 
spirit,  girl,  and  don't  be  a  coward,  though  you  're  but 
a  woman." 

"  Pardon  me.  Mistress  Gushing,  but  it  seems  to  me 
you  are  a  little  overbold  in  so  judging  and  advising  a 
stranger.    Please  to  make  known  your  business  with 


THE  COURSE  OF  TRUE  LOVE.  115 


"  Nay,  let  me  consider  you  a  moment  first,  and  do  you 
take  no  offense  where  none  is  meant.  So  timid  a  aio- 
ment  back,  and  so  delicate-stately  now  !  'T  is  like  a  toy 
some  sailor  man  brought  to  my  sister  Lyddy  :  the  figure 
of  a  man,  with  a  stick  in  his  hand,  and  you  could  cuff  it 
this  way  or  that,  it  bowed  to  the  ground  with  the  blow  ; 
but  so  soon  as  you  drew  back  your  hand,  up  it  jumped, 
and  fetched  you  a  crack  with  the  stick  made  the  water 
spring  from  your  eyes." 
Your  errand,  please." 

Nay,  now,  be  not  so  stiff  and  proud  with  a  maid 
like  yourself.  I  wish  you  no  ill,  Teresa,  indeed  I  do 
not." 

"  You  hardly  could  wish  a  stranger  ill,  madam." 

"  Well,  well,  you  proud  peat,  be  as  offish  as  you  will, 
but  it  fits  not  with  such  pride  to  steal  away  another 
girl's  man." 

"  What !  —  I  —  I  do  not  understand  !  " 

"  I  forced  your  guard  there,  my  dear !  Oh,  I  know 
the  art  of  fence  as  well  as  my  brothers,  and  have 
claimed  first  blood  before  to-day." 

"  Tell  me,  I  beseech  you,  what  you  mean." 

"Well,  then,  in  sober  sadness,  Teresa,  how  much 
thought  have  you  of  Simeon  Samson  ?  " 
Good  heavens.  Mistress  Gushing  "  — 

"  Gall  me  Deborah  ;  't  will  make  the  matter  simpler 
and  freer." 

"  How  can  you  ask  me  —  why  should  you  —  Oh,  what 
is  it  to  you,  maiden  ?  " 

**Ghild,  'tis  —  Gome,  now,  don't  cry.  I'm  like  a 
man  in  that ;  I  never  can  abide  to  see  another  cry ;  and 
if  I  fain  must  cry  myself,  't  is  like  tearing  the  heart  out 
of  my  body,  and  leaves  me  as  wounded.    There,  there, 


116     DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


dear,  I  '11  tell  thee  what  I  never  told  him  or  thought  to 
tell  any  one,  —  I  love  him,  and 't  is  life  or  death  to  me 
to  have  him." 

"Is  he  promised  to  you ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  no.  Had  he  been  really  promised,  there 
had  been  no  need  for  me  to  come  here ;  the  man's 
word 's  as  good  as  another's  oath.  And  had  he  not 
been  pledged  in  a  way,  I  had  not  been  here,  for  I  am 
no  pirate  to  seize  what  is  not  mine  own;  a  letter  of 
marque,  may  be,  armed  for  reprisal,  but  no  worse." 

"  How  could  he  come  here,  then  "  —  began  Teresa, 
but  paused,  her  face  dyed  scarlet,  as  she  remembered 
her  father's  authoritative  invitations  and  encourage- 
ment to  the  man  he  had  openly  elected  as  his  son-in* 
law. 

"  How  could  he  come  here  ?  "  echoed  Deborah.  "  Yes, 
that  is  what  I  want  to  know.  Of  one  thing  I  am  sure : 
he  has  never  spoken  to  you  of  marriage,  Teresa  ?  " 

"  No,  never." 

"  And  how  much  hath  he  really  said  ?  Nay,  now, 
be  neither  shy  nor  proud  with  me,  girl.  Don't  you  see 
that  here  are  three  lives,  three  worthy  lives  too,  set 
upon  the  turn  of  the  moment,  and  it  befits  you  and 
me  to  put  aside  all  pretty,  yea-nay,  maiden  manners, 
and  speak  the  truth  as  boldly  as  if  we  wore  hose  in- 
stead of  petticoats.  This  man  hath  been  my  bachelor 
for  a  matter  of  three  years,  and  if  he  has  not  spoken 
of  marriage  it  was  because  we  both  knew  that  his  sailor 
wage  was  not  enough  for  him  to  keep  a  wife  on,  and 
I  was  over  young  to  leave  my  home.  But  six  months 
ago  he  rode  over  to  Hingham  to  tell  me  how  he  had  got 
berth  as  mate  on  board  the  Lydia,  your  brother  Good- 
win's brigantine,  and  had  promise  of  going  captain  next 


THE  COURSE  OF  TRUE  LOVE. 


117 


voyage,  ^  And  then,  Deborah,'  says  he,  '  I  can  take  mo 
a  wife.'  You  '11  tell  me,  perhaps,  he  said  not  what  wife, 
but  had  you  seen  his  face,  and  heard  his  voice  "  — 

"  You  know  me  little,  Deborah,  or  you  would  believe 
I  never  should  seek  by  a  quibble  to  set  aside  the  truth. 
If  the  young  man  told  you  by  look  and  voice  that  he 
asked  you  to  be  his  wife,  his  words  mattered  little 
enough." 

"  So  proud,  so  proud,  and  yet  so  lissome  and  so  gen- 
tle-sweet !  I  hardly  know  to  read  you  aright,  maiden. 
I  would  not  hurt  so  tender  a  thing ;  mayhap  I,  who 
am  so  strong  and  fearless,  could  better  fight  against  dis- 
appointment than  a  soft  creature  like  you." 

"  Nay,  you  said  but  now  I  was  proud,  and  let  me  re- 
mind you,  mistress,  that  what  seems  so  valuable  to  you 
may  not  be  of  so  much  worth  in  my  eyes." 

"  Oh,  you  don't  care  for  Simeon  Samson !  You 
have  only  amused  yourself  with  his  admiration  !  You 
are  like  the  Frenchwomen  from  whom  you  come,  and 
are  what  they  call  a  coquette  !  " 

But  as  Deborah  poured  forth  her  angry  utterances, 
and  rose  from  her  chair  to  give  them  scope,  Teresa  rose 
too,  turned  deadly  pale,  looked  helplessly  toward  the 
door,  and  sank  down  again.  In  an  instant  Deborah 
was  at  her  side,  kneeling  with  her  arms  around  the 
other's  slender  waist. 

"  There,  there,  now,  I  might  have  seen  —  great, 
coarse,  stupid  creature  that  I  am,  not  to  know  you 'd 
turn  at  bay  just  like  a  doe  defending  her  fawn !  Fot- 
give  me,  darling,  for  I  love  you,  Teresa,  I  love  you  al- 
ready, and  I  see  how  that  poor  boy  of  mine  forgot  all 
else  when  he  came  anigh  you.  No  wonder  he  despised 
such  an  one  as  me !    Ah  me,  maid,  what  shall  we  do. 


118    DR.   LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS, 


we  two  !  One  must  suffer,  and  I  am  the  strongest ;  it 
must  be  me  "  — 

"  Nay,  now,  Deborah,  wait,  —  wait  but  a  moment  till 
this  faintness  passes.  Sit  you  down  again,  and  be  very 
still.    I  am  a  little  overborne  with  it  all.'' 

"  Yes,  I  am  too  rough  and  rude  to  match  with  you 
in  any  fashion.  Take  your  time,  mistress,  —  take  your 
own  time.'' 

And  rising  with  a  motion  that  showed  her  shapely 
limbs  to  be  filled  with  muscles  of  steel,  the  tall  girl 
seated  herself  as  she  was  bidden,  and  resting  her  chin 
upon  her  hand  looked  sadly  out  at  the  sea. 

In  a  moment  Teresa  spoke,  and  her  voice,  if  a  little 
chill,  was  very  gentle. 

"  It  would  be  churlish  for  me  to  deny  some  confi- 
dence in  return  for  yours.  Mistress  Deborah,  and  I  will 
confess  that  I  have  looked  with  interest  upon  Master 
Samson's  visits,  especially  as  my  father,  who  of  course 
knew  naught  of  this  other  matter,  seemed  to  encourage 
them  "  — 

"  The  doctor  knows  a  fine  man  when  he  sees  him," 
interposed  Deborah,  proudly.  The  doctor's  daughter 
smiled  gently,  and  continued  in  the  same  hushed  voice. 

"  Nor  will  I  pretend  to  deny  that  Master  Samson's 
attentions  were  very  particular  while  he  stayed  in  Plym- 
outh. I  should  be  sorry  to  have  you  fancy  that  I 
cared  for  him  without  warrant,"  —  the  sweet,  cold  voice 
faltered  a  little,  but  presently  went  on,  —  "  and  yet  I 
can  assure  you  most  earnestly  that  never  a  word  was 
spoke  "  — 

"  'T  was  you  that  said  a  while  ago  that  words  mat- 
tered little,"  interrupted  Deborah  somewhat  sullenly. 
"  Yes,  but  I  pretend  to  no  especial  looks  nor  tones, 


THE  COURSE  OF  TRUE  LOVE,  119 


at  least  so  far  as  any  prospect  of  the  future  might  be 
meant/'  replied  Teresa,  with  patient  dignity.  "  I  can 
see  now  that  Master  Samson  was  constrained  in  his 
own  mind,  and  —  ah,  well  —  at  any  rate,  he  never  told 
me  that  by  next  voyage  he  should  be  able  to  keep  a 
wife.  I  do  not  claim  him  in  any  way ;  he  is  yours  to- 
day as  much  as  ever  he  was." 

"  Nay,  you  mean,  perhaps,  he  is  as  much  mine  as  you 
have  power  to  give  him  to  me ;  but  neither  you  nor  I, 
maiden,  can  put  him  back  where  he  stood  before  he 
ever  saw  your  face,  and  heard  your  voice,  and  felt  the 
something,  whose  name  I  know  not,  that  encompasses 
your  presence." 

"  He  will  soon  forget  me,  Deborah,  and  in  all  honesty 
I  wish  you  happy  with  him,  —  as  happy  as  you  fancy 
you  should  be." 

"  That 's  a  two-sided  wish ;  you  mean  that  my  fancy 
outruns  the  possibility.  But  no  matter  ;  I  can  judge  bet- 
ter of  that  than  you  can.  And  now  let  me  tell  you,  mis- 
tress, even  to  your  proud,  beautiful  face,  that  I  shall 
make  Simeon  Samson  a  better  wife  than  you  would  ; 
for  I  love  him  as  you  never  could,  I  love  him  a  great 
deal  better  than  I  do  myself,  and  I  never  shall  stop  to 
think  whether  he  pays  me  all  the  observance  and  all 
the  consideration  that  he  should,  and  which  you  never 
will  forgive  to  any  man  alive,  be  he  sweetheart  or  hus- 
band. But  I  —  why,  I  love  him,  girl,  I  love  him  as  I 
do  the  sea,  and  the  sky,  and  my  own  life,  and  all  that 
makes  life  good  ;  I  can  give  myself  to  him,  and  wil- 
lingly spend  and  be  spent  for  his  happiness,  and  his 
comfort,  and  his  reputation,  no  matter  what  comes  to 
me.  I  do  believe,  if  he  loved  me  not  at  all,  I  could  do 
it,  so  long  as  he  loved  no  other  woman,  —  I  could  not 


120    DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS, 


bear  that,  although  even  so,  I  could  not  cease  to  love 
him,  but  I  would  never  see  him.  He  is  a  man  that 
needs  a  patient  wife,  for  he  is  not  patient  himself ;  he 
has  a  temper,  and  he  claims  obedience  from  those  he 
governs,  even  as  he  gives  loyal  obedience  to  those  above 
him ;  but  he  cannot  abide  a  lawgiver  in  his  own  house, 
nor  must  one  mind  a  hasty  word  when  he  is  vexed  and 
weary." 

"  And  you  are  so  meek  that  you  can  bear  all  this 
better  than  I  ?  "  asked  Teresa,  with  a  fine  smile  light- 
ing, but  not  softening,  her  dark  eyes. 

^*  Nay,  I  am  not  meek  at  all,  and  so  it  is  somewhat 
I  have  to  give  to  him,"  replied  Deborah  triumphantly. 
"  When  for  his  sake  I  go  softly  and  speak  gently  and 
answer  mildly,  't  is  all  as  if  I  said,  *  I  love  you,  dear,  I 
love  you !  '  You  could  not  lay  so  much  at  his  feet,  for 
you  have  no  fiend  of  a  temper  to  overcome." 

"No,  Deborah,  I  could  love  none  but  God  in  that 
fashion,  and  in  very  truth  I  believe  that  He  is  my  only 
love." 

"  You  Ve  surely  not  a  Papist !  "  exclaimed  Deborah, 
starting  back,  and  Teresa  smiled  ever  so  faintly  as  she 
replied :  — 

"  No,  but  my  grandsire  was,  and  I  know  not  that  he 
was  the  worse  for  it." 

"  Poor  soul,  he  was  a  Frenchman,  and  knew  no  bet- 
ter, but  we  "  — 

"  Nay,  let  us  not  wander  into  new  fields  of  difference. 
Your  errand  is  done,  and  well  done,  mistress,  and  no 
more  remains  to  say  except  Godspeed.  May  your  mar- 
riage be  very  happy,  and  both  you  and  he  content  to 
the  end." 

"  I  would  I  could  be  content  even  now,"  and  Deborah, 


THE  COURSE  OF  TRUE  LOVE.  121 


looked  wistfully  into  the  pure,  pale  face  so  calmly  con« 
fronting  her. 

"  How  can  you  be  less  than  content  with  what  you 
sought  so  eagerly  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  cannot  talk  as  you  do,  —  I  cannot  tell  why  I 
am  not  content.  You  make  no  moan,  you  have  not 
shed  one  tear  or  said  one  angry  word,  and  yet  I  fear 
me  there  is  a  wound  beneath  that  will  drain  your  life 
dry.  Upbraid  me  if  you  will,  —  claim  the  man,  and 
who  knows  but  even  now  I  would  give  him  to  you ! 
But  so  pale,  so  proud,  so  still  —  and  yet  I  do  know  it 
in  mine  own  heart  —  so  hurt !  " 

"  You  have  no  riglit  to  say  it,  no  right  to  think  it,  no 
right  to  judge  ! "  cried  Teresa,  a  sudden  flush  staining 
her  face  and  neck,  and  dying  away  instantly.  "  You 
could  not,  if  you  would,  give  this  man  to  me,  for  I  would 
not  have  him.  I  —  I  —  care  not  for  him,  Deborah, 
would  you  indeed  do  me  a  pleasure  ?  " 

"  Try  me,  lass  !  " 
Then  set  your  wedding  day  as  soon  as    may  be. 
Captain  Samson  sails  in  the  Lydia  this  day  fortnight. 
Let  him  sail  as  your  husband." 

"  And  that  would  pleasure  you  ?  " 

"  Ay,  more  than  aught  else." 

"  Then,  if  he  will  have  it  so,  it  shall  be  so,  although 
I  had  not  thought  of  it." 

A  moment  longer  the  two  girls  stood  looking  at  each 
other,  and  then  Deborah  dropped  upon  her  knees,  and, 
twining  her  arms  around  the  other's  waist,  cried  pite- 
ously,  — 

"  Oh,  dear  maid,  sweet  maid,  do  not  hate  me  !  You 
can  spare  him  better  than  I  could,  for  you  have  all 
heaven  to  comfort  you.    Say  you  forgive  me,  Teresa !  " 


122    DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 

"  I  have  naught  to  forgive.  May  God  bless  you  and 
yours  while  life  shall  last." 

And  stooping,  she  pressed  two  cold  soft  lips  upon 
the  other's  brow,  and  slid  gently  from  her  clasp. 


CHAPTER  XIIL 


A  TRAP. 

"  Hi !    Mother  Crewe  !    Mother  Crewe !  " 
"  Well,  who  calls  mother  Crewe,  in  such  a  masterful 
fashion  ?  " 

"  Isaac  LeBaron.  Come  out  here,  old  woman,  till  I 
speak  with  you." 

^'  Oho,  my  young  master  can't  take  the  trouble  to 
alight,  but  the  old  woman  must  hobble  out  to  him  ! 
Well,  then,  here  am  I,  worshipful  Master  Isaac  Le- 
Baron, and  what  is  your  will  ?  " 

"  My  father  has  gone  to  Boston,  and  bade  me  come 
and  see  how  John  White  fares  to-day,  and  here  is  more 
medicine  for  him.  I  am  bound  for  Carver  to  see  other 
sick  folk,  so  I  cannot  stay." 

And  if  you  could,  I  fear  me  even  your  skill.  Master 
Isaac,  would  not  much  avail  a  man  that  hath  been  stark 
these  six  hours.  But  give  me  the  med'cine.  'T  will  do 
another  time." 

"  Dead  ?  " 

"  Ay,  dead  as  Adam." 

"In  that  case,  my  father  bade  me  warn  the  select- 
men, and  they  will  send  some  one  to  bury  him.  And 
you  are  to  roll  him  in  a  tarred  sheet,  and  lock  the  house 
before  you  leave  him.  You  have  the  tar  and  all  you 
need,  he  told  me.    Is  there  anything  more  to  be  said  ?  " 

"  Naught,  but  thank  y'  for  your  courtesy  and  your 
bounty.  Master  Isaac." 


124    DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


The  young  man  colored  angrily,  for  he  had  not  been 
courteous,  nor  did  his  pockets  contain  a  penny  with 
which  to  bribe  good  will ;  so  affecting  not  to  hear  the 
old  woman's  hint,  he  nodded  slightly,  set  spurs  to  his 
horse,  and  rode  on,  a  goodly  and  pleasant  sight,  in  the 
clear  summer  morning,  with  the  green  leaves  flecking 
the  sunlight  upon  his  path,  and  the  pungent  aroma  of 
the  bayberries  rising  around  his  horse's  hoofs.  Mother 
Crewe  looked  after  him,  her  toothless  jaws  working  with  a 
mouthful  of  unspoken  evil  thoughts,  then  shook  her  head 
with  a  smile  more  malevolent  even  than  the  thoughts. 

^^Pity  he  must  meddle  and  make  with  Molly  Peach's 
brood !  Pity  so  fine  a  springald  should  go  down  with 
them !  Well,  I  must  have  help  ere  I  meddle  with  yon 
carcass." 

And  closing  the  door  of  the  hut,  the  old  woman  hob- 
bled down  the  road,  and  presently  came  within  sight  of 
the  widow  Ring's  cottage,  and  Yetmercy  on  the  door- 
step looking  idly  along  the  dusty  road  toward  town.  A 
gleam  of  malice  crossed  the  face  of  the  old  witch,  and 
hastening  her  footsteps  she  cried  :  — 

"  Did  Master  Isaac  find  you,  Yetmercy  ?  " 

"  Master  Isaac  !  "  exclaimed  the  girl,  with  a  sudden 
color  in  her  face,  and  eagerly  advancing  to  meet  her  ene- 
my, "  No,  I  have  not  seen  him  !  Is  he  looking  for  me  ?  " 

"  Ay,  and  I  thought  he  went  from  me  to  find  you. 
He  wants  you  to  give  me  some  help  up  yonder." 

"  In  the  pest-house  ?  " 

"  Nay,  never  turn  white  on  such  a  little  word  as  that. 
There 's  no  danger  now.  Dr.  Isaac  bade  me  tell  you 
so,  and  that  it  would  greatly  pleasure  him  to  find  you 
there  when  he  comes  back.  Besides,  the  town  gives  a 
great  reward  for  those  who  undertake  that  work,  and 
money  is  none  so  plentiful  in  your  house,  Yetmercy." 


A  TRAP. 


125 


No,  —  but  if  the  young  doctor  bids  me  go,  I  '11  go 
where  no  money  would  tempt  me." 

"  Ay,  ay,  I  believe  it  well,"  muttered  the  old  woman, 
nodding  her  head  and  blinking  her  watery  eyes  like  an 
owl  at  mid-day,  as  she  stole  sidelong  looks  at  the  pretty 
creature  standing  in  the  sunshine  before  her,  and  half 
relented  of  her  purpose,  but  from  the  open  window  hard 
at  hand  came  a  querulous  cry  :  — 

"  Yetmercy,  where  are  you,  child  ?  " 

"  Here,  mother,  —  coming,"  replied  the  girl,  and 
mother  Crewe's  face  darkened  as  she  laid  a  claw  upon 
the  girl's  arm,  whispering  hurriedly,  — 

Don't  let  her  keep  you.  Isaac  will  be  there  waiting 
for  you,  anon." 

I  '11  come,  certain  true,  I  '11  come,"  replied  Yetmercy, 
in  the  same  tone.  "  Go  on,  mother  Crewe,  and  I  '11 
be  there  as  soon  as  you." 

"  And  don't  tell  your  mother  aught  about  it,  or  she  '11 
keep  you." 

No,  I  won't.  Go  on,  now,  and  I  '11  overtake  you  in 
five  minutes." 

"  And  if  Isaac  comes  before  you,  I  '11  bid  him  wait.'* 
"  Yes,  I  shall  surely  be  there." 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  well  do  I  know  you  will,"  chuckled 
the  old  woman,  as  she  hobbled  back  toward  the  woods ; 
nor  did  any  kind  fate  interpose  to  save  her  victim,  who 
in  fact  arrived  at  the  hut  in  the  same  moment  as  her- 
self. 

"  Now,  child,  to  work,  —  why  the  man's  in  a  swound, 
surely !  "  — 

"  Oh,  mother  Crewe,  he 's  dead  ?  " 

"  Nay,  child,  't  is  but  one  of  the  weak  spells  he  takes 
at  times.    Here,  come  and  rub  his  hands  betwixt  yours. 


126    DR,  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


so,  —  and  his  arms  —  now  rub  him  hearty  and  bring 
back  the  life  !  " 

"  Oh,  Mother  Crewe,  it  frightens  me !  Sure  the  man 
is  dead,  the  hand  is  so  cold,  so  stiff,  and 't  is  so  loathly 
too  with  these  sores  !  " 

A  murrain  on  you,  girl !  And  you  hoping  to  be  a 
doctor's  wife  by  and  by !  What  will  he  think  of  such 
a  coward  heart  ?  Come,  now,  here  is  the  comb, 
straighten  you  his  hair,  and  make  him  decent  before  the 
doctor  comes." 

"  But  he  is  dead,  —  I  know  that  he  is  dead,  and  I  am 
afraid !  "  moaned  the  girl,  taking  the  comb  in  her  icy 
fingers,  and  passing  it  through  the  dead  man's  hair. 

"  Say  you  so,  Yetmercy  ?  Well,  mayhap  you  're  right 
after  all,  wench.  You  do  indeed  show  a  wondrous  in- 
sight into  all  things,  fitting  that  same  doctor's  wife. 
Mayhap  you  're  right,  sweetheart,  and  the  man  is  dead, 
but  if  so  be,  you  're  ready  here  to  help  me  lay  him  out. 
There  comb  his  hair,  and  curl  it  on  your  little  fingers  ; 
and  here 's  a  cloth,  wash  his  face,  and  see  if  you  can 
shut  those  staring  eyes,"  — 

"  Oh,  I  can't,  I  can't  bear  it,  —  let  me  go,  —  let  me 
get  out  of  this  house,  —  oh,  for  God's  sake,  let  me  go, 
mother  Crewe,  —  let  me  —  let  me  !  " 

And  frantic  with  terror  the  girl  threw  herself  upon 
her  tormentor  and  tried  to  force  her  from  the  door,  but 
the  old  hag,  laughing  like  a  demon,  stood  fast  and 
barred  the  way. 

"  What,  going  to  leave  the  tryst  before  your  sweet- 
heart comes  !  Did  not  he  bid  you  come  and  wait,  and 
will  you  be  the  first  to  lose  patience  !  Nay,  that  man 
on  the  bed  will  never  spoil  sport,  he  '11  take  no  note  of 
all  the  loving  words  and  sweet  kisses  "  — 


A  TRAP. 


127 


Let  me  go,  let  me  go  — '  Isaac  —  oh  —  mother  — 
oh,  what  is  it  ails  me  — let  me  go  "  — 

She  fell  swooning  on  the  floor,  and  mother  Crewe 
stood  for  a  moment  looking  down  while  the  wild  fire 
of  insanity  blazed  in  her  eyes  and  flamed  upon  her 
cheek.  Then  lightly  stirring  the  prostrate  body  with 
her  foot,  she  raised  a  clenched  hand  toward  heaven,  cry- 
ing,— 

"  Bathsheba's  life  against  hers !  My  own  girl  lay 
like  this,  and  none  pitied  !  Life  for  life  —  't  is  God's 
own  law !  " 

Then,  closing  the  door,  she  set  off  for  the  town,  and 
finding  one  of  the  selectmen  reported  that  her  patient 
was  dead  and  that  she  had  left  Yetmercy  Ring  to  guard 
the  place  until  the  proper  officers  should  come  to  bury 
the  dead. 

"  But  she  has  never  had  the  sickness !  Was  not  she 
afraid  to  go  ?  "  asked  the  selectman. 

"  Nay,  she  is  sweet  upon  Isaac  LeBaron,  and  thinks 
no  danger  can  come  where  he  is,"  replied  the  old  woman 
with  a  jeering  laugh,  and  her  hearer  hastened  to  count 
out  the  pieces  of  silver  which  were  the  price  of  her 
treachery,  and  bid  her  begone  out  of  his  office. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


LUCY  HAMMATT's  SUFFLET. 

"  Good  morrow  to  you,  Lucy !  " 
Oh,  't  is  you,  Patty  !    Good  morrow,  and  what 's  the 
good  word  with  you  ?  " 

Oh,  I  don't  know  —  seems  to  me  you  're  always 
cooking.    As  for  me,  I  hate  it." 

"  Ah,  but  you  have  n't  a  goodman  to  cook  for  as  I 
have.  When  the  Captain 's  at  home  it 's  just  a  delight 
to  set  goodies  before  him  and  see  how  he  savors  them. 
Salt  junk  and  sea-biscuit  six  months  or  a  year  running 
whet  a  man's  appetite  for  something  more  delicate." 

"  And  what  will  you  have  for  dinner  to-day  ?  May- 
hap I  '11  stay  and  draw  up." 

"  Do,  and  you  '11  be  kindly  welcome,  Patty.  The 
Captain  loves  to  see  a  comely  young  face  now  and 
again,  and  your  nephew  Abr'am  is  never  tired  of  Aunt 
Patty  who  is  more  of  a  cousin  than  an  aunt  to  him." 

"  After  that  sweet  sop  surely  I  '11  stay.  Shall  I  lay 
my  calash  in  the  bedroom  ?  "  And  without  waiting  for 
reply  Martha  Howland  carefully  took  off  the  lofty  green 
silk  structure  resembling,  as  its  name  implied,  the  head 
of  a  calbche,  that  charming  French  carriage  so  disas- 
trous to  the  fame  of  La  Belle  Stewart,  and  having  tight- 
ened the  belt  riding  as  high  under  her  arms  as  Nature 
would  permit,  and  tenderly  patted  and  lightened  up  the 
curls  clustering  at  either  side  her  face,  and  seen  that 


LUCY  HAM  MATT  S  SUFFLET,  129 


her  monstrous  comb  stood  erect  at  the  back,  she  came 
back  into  the  kitchen,  asking,  — 

"  Shall  I  do  a  hand's  turn  for  you,  Lucy  ?  " 

"  No,  no  ;  sit  you  down  in  the  great  chair  by  the  win- 
dow. You  're  quite  too  fine  for  anything  useful.  How 
happen  you  all  dressed  up  before  dinner  ?  " 

"  Why,  Betty  LeBaron  asked  me  to  come  and  spend 
the  day  with  her,  and  to  meet  her  sweetheart,  Ammy 
Robbins,  the  parson's  brother,  you  know." 

"  Well,  why  did  n't  you  go  ?  "  asked  Lucy  Hammatt, 
absently,  as  she  tasted  and  savored  some  golden  com- 
pound in  a  wooden  bowl. 

"  Why  —  I  —  well,  —  oh,  never  mind !  " 

"  Why,  Patty,  what 's  upset  you  so  ?  You  look  fit  to 
cry,  you  silly  wench.    What 's  to  do,  child  ?  " 

"  Well,  Betty  Foster  told  me  not  half  an  hour  ago, 
that  they  are  all  saying  "  — 

"  Stop  now,  Patty !    Who 's  '  they  '  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Becca  Fuller,  and  Molly  and  Nancy  Mayhew, 
and  the  rest,  I  don't  know  just  who,"  pouted  Patty. 

"  Father  always  used  to  say  that  *  maybees  '  did  n't  fly 
except  in  May,  and  this  is  September,  so  never  mind 
them,  and  Betty  Foster  had  better  read  what  the  Apostle 
James  says  of  the  tongue.  Come,  now,  what  was  it  after 
all  ?    Tell  me  quick,  before  I  put  my  cake  to  bake." 

"  Well,  she  said  they  said  I  was  courting  Isaac 
LeBaron  —  there  then !  " 

"And  is  it  true,  Patty?" 

"  You  know  it  is  n't,  Lucy  Hammatt." 
Well,  then,  what  do  you  care  ?    Suppose  they  said 
I  had  but  one  leg  and  t'  other  was  a  wooden  one,  d'  ye 
think 't  would  fret  me  ?  " 

Patty  laughed,  displaying  some  white  teeth  and  very 


130    DR,  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


pretty  dimples,  but  as  she  settled  herself  in  the  great 
roundabout  chair  at  the  garden  window  she  said,  — 

"  Well,  I  could  n't  go  right  along  to  the  LeBarons' 
after  that,  so  I  turned  in  here." 

"  And  you  're  welcome,  dear,  as  I  said  before,  but 
now  just  sit  you  quiet  and  look  out  o'  window,  or  where 
you  will  till  I  get  my  cake  baking,  and  see  to  my  din- 
ner. Come,  now.  Flora,  't  is  time  to  clear  out  the  bake- 
kettle,  and  have  out  the  roaster.    Where 's  Toby  ?  " 

Just  yere,  mist'ss,"  replied  the  portly  but  benignant 
negi'ess,  coming  forward,  while  Toby,  an  imp  of  ten  years 
old  or  thereabout,  poked  his  head  in  at  the  garden  door, 
concluded  there  was  time  for  a  few  more  somersaults, 
and  disappeared.  Martha  Howland  sat  and  looked  about 
her,  half  pettish,  half  amused.  It  was  a  pleasant  scene 
that  met  her  eye.  The  great  kitchen  extending  all 
across  the  back  of  the  house  opened  by  two  windows 
and  a  door  upon  a  garden  sloping  toward  the  sea,  and 
filled  to  overflowing  with  those  honest  simple  flowers 
that  sufficed  our  grandmothers.  Roses  and  lilies,  and 
pinks,  and  sweet-williams,  and  hollyhocks,  and  mari- 
golds, and  heart's-ease,  and  "  daffies,"  and  jonquils,  and 
daisies,  and  primroses,  and  a  choice  bed  of  "  flower-de- 
luce"  crowded  and  struggled  for  room,  and  hastened 
each  as  soon  as  its  season  allowed,  to  shoulder  out  its 
predecessor,  and  flaunt  abroad  its  banner  of  victory. 
Some  basket  bee-hives  set  at  one  side  of  a  little  plot  of 
velvet  turf,  sent  out  their  murmurous  multitude  to  add 
the  song  of  happy  toil  to  the  idle  melodies  of  crickets 
and  pipers  "  and  all  the  merry  useless  tribe  of  cicadas. 
The  distant  plash  of  the  tide  upon  the  beach  came 
vaguely  borne  upon  the  wings  of  a  wind  that  rustled 
among  the  lime  tree  leaves  of  Squire  Watson's  new 


LVCY  H Aim  ATT  S  SUFFLET,  131 


plantation  on  North  Street,  and  freighting  itself  with 
odors  of  dulce  and  kelp  and  such  wild  scents  as  are 
most  sweet  to  dwellers  by  the  sea,  added  as  a  tribute  to 
the  fair  girl  waiting  to  welcome  his  toying  fingers  in 
her  hair,  a  hundred  delicate  breaths  of  autumn  flowers 
and  ripened  fruit  and  honey-combs,  and  that  strange, 
pungent,  intoxicating,  yet  saddest  of  odors,  that  seems 
the  very  breath  of  early  autumn,  the  smell  of  dying 
grass,  and  falling  leaves,  and  shrinking  sap,  the  fragrant 
dying  kiss  of  summer. 

Some  such  thought,  or  rather,  some  such  consciousness 
crossed  the  mind  of  the  girl  already  saddened  enough, 
as  she  chose  to  think,  with  her  own  concerns,  and  with 
an  impatient  sigh  she  turned  from  the  window  to  look 
within. 

Here,  at  least,  was  a  cheerful  scene.  The  great  open 
fireplace  was  so  long  that  the  mouth  of  the  brick  oven 
was  inside  the  jamb,  and  there  was  ample  room  to  step 
inside  and,  as  Flora  was  now  doing,  to  clear  the  oven 
by  the  summary  process  of  flinging  the  charred  brands 
upon  the  fire  at  the  other  end  of  the  great  cavern  of  a 
fireplace,  where  stood  a  pair  of  massive  iron  andirons 
or  "  dogs "  as  they  were  often  called,  each  provided 
on  the  inner  face  with  a  strong  hook  on  which  to  lay  the 
spit  when  meat  was  to  be  roasted. 

Upborne  by  these  dogs  glowed  a  noble  fire  built  in 
orthodox  and  approved  style  with  mighty  back  log 
bedded  in  ashes  that  it  might  glow  and  char  but  not 
consume ;  a  generous  forestick  to  act  as  a  bulwark  or 
sea-wall  to  hold  the  mighty  flood  of  flame  in  place  ;  a 
mass  of  hearty  oak  sticks  between,  and  when  the  fire 
was  first  Hghted  in  the  morning  a  crown  and  garniture 
of  shavings,  twigs,  and  such  light  feathery  stuff  as  might 


132  DR,  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


suggest  the  ruddy  foam  of  a  sun-tipped  sea.  On  the 
high  mantle-tree  shelf,  just  above  the  fire,  lay  the  tinder 
box  that  was  to  set  this  mass  of  fuel  alight,  and  surely 
in  some  bitter  winter  mornings,  when  even  the  banked- 
up  back  log  gave  no  warmth  to  Flora's  freezing  fingers, 
she  may  be  pardoned  for  fancying  that  "  de  debbel  he 
very  se'f,"  got  into  "  dat  yer  ole  tin'er-box,  an'  would  n't 
lef  him  light  up  nohow." 

Beside  the  tinder  box  stood  an  array  of  candlesticks, 
solid  iron  ones  for  kitchen  use,  japanned  tin  for  bed- 
room lights,  and  two  pair  of  goodly  brass  ones,  to  be 
placed  on  the  tea-table  or  to  light  the  housewife  at  her 
evening  spinning,  knitting,  or  sewing.  The  snuffers 
and  the  extinquishers  were  not  wanting,  and  the  row 
was  closed  with  a  couple  of  tin  lanthorns  and  another 
of  horn.  From  a  mighty  crane  above  the  fire  hung, 
upon  their  various  pot-hooks,  the  jolly  round  tea-kettle 
murmuring  low  at  its  exile  to  the  remotest  corner,  and 
a  couple  of  pots,  one  exhaling  a  delicious  odor  of  wine 
and  spices  in  spite  of  the  rim  of  rye  dough  "  luting  " 
the  crevice  between  rim  and  lid,  while  two  or  three  skil- 
lets, a  sort  of  saucepan  mounted  upon  legs,  stood  in  va- 
rious degrees  of  remove  from  the  fire  each  simmering  at 
its  appointed  temperature.  A  smooth  hickory  board 
whereon  to  bake  bannocks  stood  ready  for  use  along 
with  the  "  creeper  "  and  its  cousin  the  "  spider,"  while 
in  the  bake-kettle,  or  Dutch  oven  just  emptied  of  its 
embers  by  Flora,  the  mistress  was  tenderly  placing  her 
loaf  of  pound  cake  thickly  sown  with  caraway  seeds, 
to  be  presently  covered  closely  with  the  hollowed  lid 
heaped  with  live  coals,  and  there  to  rise,  and  crisp,  and 
brown  in  undisturbed  fruition  until  after  the  bake-ket- 
tle was  nearly  cold,  when  the  cake  would  emerge  more 


LUCY  HAMMATTS  SUFFLET,  133 


perfect  and  more  delicious  than  anything  we  degenerate 
feeders  ever  dream  of. 

"  Is  there  aught  for  dinner  beyond  the  seed-cake  ?  " 
inquired  saucy  Patty,  as  her  sister  rose  flushed  and 
triumphant  from  her  knees.  "  'T  will  be  delicate  if  not 
very  satisfying." 

"  Were  I  to  uncover  yonder  kettle,"  replied  Lucy, 
good-naturedly,  "  I  '11  warrant  you 'd  see  as  goodly  a 
piece  of  oUymode  beef  as  even  mother  ever  set  on 
table,  and  there 's  a  plum-pudding  boiling,  and  —  oh, 
you  '11  see  when  dinner  time  comes.  Now,  Flora,  get 
those  pies  in  before  your  oven  cools,  and  the  dish  of 
custard  close  at  the  mouth  to  take  out  first,  —  there, 
girl,  now  the  door,  push  it  in  and  chock  the  stick  to 
hold  it  firm.  That 's  right,  and  next  you  may  put 
down  the  Carolina  potatoes  to  boil,  and  at  half  past, 
the  white  ones.  —  Patty,  you  shall  see  me  make  my 
sufflet !  'T  is  something  new  in  these  parts,  I  warrant 
you.  The  captain  got  me  the  resait  from  some  great 
cook  in  London,  but  they  say  it  came  from  France  in 
the  beginning,  and  may  be  you  '11  like  it  all  the  better, 
seeing  that  Ike  LeBaron's  gran'ther  was  a  mounseer." 

"  Now,  Lucy  "  — 

"  There,  there,  call  it  unsaid,  only  don't  hinder  me 
now  to  quarrel  and  make  up.  Toby,  see  if  your  master 
is  in  sight." 

"  Yis 'm ;  jes'  stannin'  at  de  corner  here  a'  laffin'  long 
o'  Mas'  Tom  Rowland." 

"  He  '11  be  in  on  the  stroke  of  twelve  —  eight  bells, 
as  he  calls  it,"  said  the  wife,  seeming  to  amplify  and 
heighten  in  person  as  she  prepared  for  her  grand  chef 
d'ceuvre.  Come,  Flora,  get  up  the  dinner.  Swing  out 
the  crane  and  take  off  the  ollymode,  so  that  I  can 


134    DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


make  the  sauce.    Everjrthing  else  is  done  but  dishing, 
and  that  you  can  manage  as  well  as  I.    Remember  the 
wine  sauce  is  to  simmer  till  you  take  up  the  pudding. 
Are  the  vegetables  ready  ?  " 
"  Jes'  ready,  mist'ss." 

"  Well,  then,  —  there,  the  sauce  is  ready  and  you  can 
dish  the  beef  while  I  make  the  sufflet.  Fetch  the  silver 
dish  with  the  cover,  and  the  wooden  spit,  and  the  dredg- 
ing-box,  and  a  dish  of  sifted  flour,  and  then  the  roll  of 
butter  that 's  cooling  down  the  well,  and,  Toby,  you  be 
right  on  hand.** 

"  Wish 't  you  had  n'  nebber  f oun'  out  how  ter  make 
dat  ting,"  grumbled  Toby  —  ruefully  glancing  at  the 
preparations,  as  he  pulled  off  his  jacket,  remaining  in 
a  homespun  shirt  and  trousers  all  of  blue  and  white 
check,  contrasting  finely  with  his  coffee-colored  legs  and 
feet. 

"  None  o'  you'  saace,  boy,  'thout  you  want  you'  ears 
boxed,"  remarked  his  mother  sotto  voce^  but  the  mis- 
tress was  too  busy  to  be  easily  disturbed.  With  her 
comely  arms  bare  to  the  elbow  and  her  apron  tied  close 
up  under  her  neck,  she  was  jealously  examining  the 
long  walnut  rod,  something  like  a  ramrod,  handed  her 
by  Chloe.  Satisfied  that  it  could  not  be  cleaner,  she 
floured  her  hands,  and  from  the  tin  pail,  beaded  and 
dripping  with  the  icy  waters  of  the  well,  she  took  a  roll 
of  butter  weighing  about  a  pound,  and  carefully  thrust 
the  wooden  spit  through  it  lengthwise,  balancing  the 
weight  as  equally  as  possible. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do,  Lucy !  "  exclaimed 
Patty  now  thoroughly  interested  and  coming  toward 
the  table.    "  Not  roast  that  butter  !  " 

*'Just  what  I  am  going  to  do,"  replied  Mistress 
Hammatt  briefly.    "  Come,  Toby  !  " 


LUCY  HAMMATTS  SUFFLET.  135 


And  Toby  with  a  groan  went  down  on  his  knees  be- 
fore the  fire,  burned  now  to  a  fiery  furnace  of  hickory 
coals. 

Laying  the  spit  across  the  hooks  on  the  inside  of  the 
great  dogs  the  mistress  seized  the  dredging-box  obse- 
quiously handed  her  by  Chloe,  and  as  Toby  turned  the 
spit  swiftly  and  steadily,  she  began  shaking  flour  upon 
the  revolving  ball  of  butter,  which  before  it  could  melt 
and  drip  was  covered  with  a  brown  glaze  of  combined 
flour,  butter,  and  crisp,  such  as  one  Tised  to  see  upon  the 
breast  of  a  well  roasted  chicken,  but  now  sees  only  in 
the  fond  dreams  of  a  childhood's  home. 

Of  course,  as  the  heat  penetrated,  the  butter  withii 
broke  lava-like  through  this  thin  outer  crust,  but  being 
at  once  met  with  a  fresh  shower  of  dry  flour  became  ia 
turn  an  outer  crust,  to  be  broken  through  by  a  deeper 
eruption,  and  so  on,  and  so  on,  for  perhaps  half  an 
hour,  during  which  arduous  period  Toby  never  ceased 
to  twirl  the  spit,  his  mistress  never  ceased  to  shake  the 
flour,  being  every  now  and  then  supplied  with  a  fresh 
dredging-box  by  the  delighted  Flora,  and  Patty,  cool 
and  fresh  in  her  muslin  gown  and  cherry  ribbons,  never 
ceased  to  marvel  and  exclaim. 

"  There !  "  exclaimed  Lucy  at  length,  straightening 
her  back,  and  pushing  the  hair  from  her  streaming 
forehead.  "  That 's  done,  and  a  dainty  biA  you  'U  find 
it,  Miss  Patty  !  " 

"It  had  need  be,  for  the  work  it  cost,"  remarked 
Patty  dryly,  as  she  watched  her  sister  deftly  deposit  the 
souffle,  now  a  frothing,  bubbling  mass  of  golden  brown 
crisp,  five  or  six  times  its  original  size,  in  a  handsome 
silver  dish,  and  put  the  cover  over  it. 

"  Is  everything  else  on  the  table,  Chloe  ?  " 


136     DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


"  Yes'm,  and  Mas'  Cap'n  done  sharped  de  carvin* 
knife  two,  tree  times  over." 

"  Ay,  he  *s  hungry,  —  that 's  good  !  "  murmured  the 
wife,  from  the  bedroom  where  she  was  hastily  washing 
her  face  and  hands  and  smoothing  her  hair. 

"  You  looked  roasted  yourself,  Lu,"  said  her  sister,  as 
the  elder  emerged  drawing  down  her  sleeves.  Before 
I 'd  do  as  much  as  that  for  any  man  !  "  — 

"  That  shows  you  don't  love  any  man,"  coolly  replied 
Lucy.    "Come  along,  child." 

And  the  two  passed  down  the  cool  dim  hall  to  the 
dining-room,  looking  out  upon  the  King's  Highway. 
Here  awaiting  them  stood  the  captain,  a  good  many 
years  older  than  when  we  saw  him  last,  and  ripened 
from  a  handsome  stripling  to  a  comely  middle-aged  man, 
tall  and  large  of  frame,  dark  of  skin,  both  by  nature 
and  long  exposure,  but  with  the  same  keen  hazel  eyes 
and  masterful  mouth  as  of  yore,  and  with  an  air  of 
mingled  authority  and  great  personal  kindliness  upon 
his  firm  large  features. 

"  Patty !  Welcome,  my  lass  !  Come  to  see  after  your 
sailor-brother,  or  is  it  a  motherly  oversight  of  Abe  and 
Lucy  ?  She 's  up  in  Boston  visiting  her  uncle  William, 
and  Abe 's  gone  fishing  with  Ike  LeBaron,  —  won't  be 
home  till  the  flow  o'  the  tide,  and  that's  bedtime." 

"  Ask  a  blessing,  husband,  and  let  us  sit  down,"  in- 
terrupted the  housewife  impatiently.  "  There 's  a  suf- 
flet,  and  that  you  know  can't  stand." 

"  Oh  !  "  —  And  resolutely  closing  his  eyes  against 
temptations,  the  captain  invoked  a  hasty  blessing,  and 
then  sitting  down,  cried,  — 

"  Off  with  the  cover.  Luce,  and  let  us  feast  our  eyes, 
before  we  do  our  palates." 


LUCY  HAMMATTS  SUFFLET.  137 


" '  T  is  tolerably  successful,  I  hope,"  said  Lucy,  tak- 
ing off  the  cover  and  handing  it  to  Toby,  now  in  his 
jacket  and  slippers,  and  modestly  gazing  upon  the 
seething  and  tremulous  volcano  before  her. 

"  I  should  say  so,"  replied  her  husband  heartily.  "  I 
tell  you  what  it  is,  Patty  Howland,  a  man  that  gets  Lucy 
Hammatt's  sister  for  a  wife  is  a  lucky  man,  and  so  I 
shall  tell  Ike  LeBaron  the  first  time  I  see  him." 


CHAPTER  XV. 


THE  KING  IS   DEAD  !    LONG   LIVE   THE   KING ! 

"  The  pusson  nex'  door  want  speak  to  you,  sah,  w'en 
you  done  breakfas,"  announced  Quashy,  coming  into  the 
room  where  Doctor  LeBaron  with  his  daughters  Eliza- 
beth, Priscilla,  and  Margaret,  and  their  brothers  Fran- 
cis and  William,  sat  at  breakfast. 

"  The  person  next  door  ?  What,  the  new  tenant  ?  " 
And  the  doctor  smiled  grimly. 

"  No,  sah,  not  Mas'  Joseph,  but  de  carpenter  pusson, 
to'der  side  our  alley." 

"  Why  don't  you  say  Master  Eickard  or  William 
Rickard,  you  idiot  ?  " 

"  Did  n'  know  as  he  was  anybody's  mas'r,  sah.  He 's 
in  de  kitchen  wid  he  hat  on." 

"  Quash,  you  're  both  an  anachronism  and  an  exotic. 
Go  show  Mr.  Rickard  into  my  office.  Now,  Bess,  I 
shall  have  to  leave  you  at  both  ends  of  the  table ; 
Frank  and  Bill,  look  out  you  don't  make  your  sister  any 
trouble,  or  I  '11  show  you  into  the  office  myself." 

The  office,  in  a  little  northerly  extension  of  the  house, 
had  a  door  upon  the  alley  dividing  the  LeBaron  estate 
from  that  of  Giles  Rickard,  and  here  the  doctor  pres- 
ently found  his  visitor  filling  up  the  doorway  with  his 
gaunt  loose-jointed  figure,  and  thoughtfully  surveying 
his  own  premises  from  the  vantage  ground  of  the  two 
steps. 


THE  KING  IS  DEAD! 


139 


"  Ah,  good  morning,  neighbor  Rickard  !  There 's  no 
place  like  home  to  you,  is  there  ?  " 

"  Well,  doctor,  I  don't  know  ;  perhaps  I  don't  justly 
take  in  your  meaning,  but  I  was  thinking  my  grapes 
was  about  ready  to  gather,  and  seem  a  leetle  forrarder 
than  yours,  now,  don't  they  ?  " 

"  Like  enough,  neighbor,  I  have  no  time  to  look  after 
them  and  the  negroes  are  careless.  You  're  not  ailing 
this  morning  ?  " 

Thank  the  Lord  I 'm  never  ailing.  Doctor.  No 
sir,  I  only  stepped  in,  in  a  kind  o'  neighbor  fashion,  to 
ask  you  to  just  throw  an  eye  over  this  little  account, 
that  I 'm  a-going  to  render  in  to  the  town  for  building 
the  new  parsonage.  It's  most  six  months  now  since 
Mr.  Robbins's  folks  moved  in,  and  I've  been  kind  o' 
tinkering  round  'long  as  I  had  time  "  — 

"  The  parson's  wife  has  complained  bitterly  that  you 
never  found  time  to  put  up  the  shelves  and  hooks  and 
such  conveniences  that  were  promised,"  interrupted  the 
doctor  rather  severely.  Rickard  looked  slowly  and 
shamefacedly  at  him. 

"  Well,  doctor,  I  '11  allow  these  little  puttering  jobs 
do  kind  o'  hang  in  the  wind  ;  you  see  there  was  Deacon 
Foster's  barn  had  got  to  be  shingled  'fore  the  fall  rains 
come  on,  and  then  Squire  Watson  would  n't  take  no  for 
an  answer,  but  I 'd  got  to  set  up  his  new  fence,  and  so 
—  but  I  guess  we  '11  call  the  parsonage  job  done  now, 
and  I  '11  send  in  this  little  mite  of  a  bill  for  the  balance 
of  the  work,  next  town-meeting,  if  you  think  it's  all  ship- 
shape, and  above  board." 

"  Want  I  should  take  a  private  view,  before  I  inspect 
it  officially,  eh  ?  " 

Well,  yes,  Doctor,  something  so.    Here 't  is." 


140     DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


And  from  the  pocket  of  his  leather  breeches,  the 
carpenter  produced  a  small  and  dirty  piece  of  paper 
which  the  doctor,  smoothing  out  upon  his  table,  read 
aloud :  — 

Town  of  Plymouth  to  William  Richard,  Dr 

Finishing  the  entray  with  Brackett  Sta'rs  and  win- 

scutt  the  hoi  £52.10.  0 

Finishing  the  two  front  rooms  with  Brest-work 

over  the  Chimneys  Shelves  and  Cornishing  .       .  £50.00.  0 

Finishing  the  two  front  chambers  and  Entray  with 

common  carving  £29.00.  0 

Finishing  the  two  back  chambers  ....  £25.00.  0 

Finishing  the  bedroom  with  shelves  and  mop- 
boards   £20.00.  0 

Finishing  the  ciching  and  back  stars  with  all  the 
conveniences  common  £18.00.  0 

£194. 10s.  Od 

"  Why,  yes,  I  don't  see  but  that  is  all  fair,  Mr.  Rick- 
ard,"  said  the  doctor,  smiling  a  little,  as  he  returned  the 
bill,  "  and  I  will  certainly  advise  my  brother  selectmen 
to  approve  and  settle  the  account  as  soon  as  presented. 
I  hear  that  you  are  thinking  of  moving,  Rickard." 

"Well,  yes.  Doctor,  I  some  think  of  it.  The  old 
house  has  gone  out  of  our  hands  —  fact,  folks  call  it  the 
AUyne  house  sometimes,  right  to  my  face,  though  its 
been  Rickard  property  a  hundred  years  or  more,  but 
now  father 's  sold  out  for  good  and  all  to  Squire  Loth- 
rop,  and  bein'  a  tenant  on  your  own  land  don't  seem  to 
set  well  on  my  stomach,  and  I  guess  I  '11  be  jogging  be- 
fore long." 

"We  shall  be  sorry  to  lose  our  neighbors,"  replied 
the  doctor  pleasantly.  "  Your  father  and  I  set  off  this 
alley,  half  from  each  estate,  and  that  is  in  some  sort  a 
link  though  it  be  a  division." 


THE  KING  IS  DEAD! 


141 


"  They  call  it  LeBaron's  Alley,  though,  —  never  Rlck- 
ard's  Alley,  that  I  know  of,"  replied  the  man  slowly. 
"  We  Rickards  are  one  of  the  old  anncient  families  that 
have  run  their  race,  and  now  had  better  get  out  of 
sight  and  say  no  more  about  it.  But  Rickards  lived 
in  Plymouth  before  Lothrops  ever  came  off  o*  Cape 
Cod." 

And  with  an  air  of  wounded  dignity,  the  carpenter 
made  two  strides  across  the  alley  and  in  at  his  father's 
garden  gate,  while  the  doctor,  with  a  smile  of  somewhat 
pensive  humor  upon  his  face,  put  on  his  hat  and  coat, 
and  strolled  into  the  street.  Next  to  his  own  house 
stood  a  smaller  one  built  by  his  stepfather  Return  Waite, 
but  now  owned  by  the  doctor,  and  occupied  by  his  son 
Joseph,  who  some  years  before  this,  had  married  Parson 
Leonard's  pretty  daughter  Sarah.  Next  to  this,  after- 
ward known  as  the  Churchill  house,  stood  a  comfortable, 
substantial  new  house,  with  garden  ground  around  it, 
and  a  comely  young  matron  standing  at  the  door. 

"  Good  morrow  to  you,  Mrs.  Robbins,"  said  the  doc- 
tor, taking  his  hat  quite  off  his  head.  "  I  am  happy  to 
hear  from  Rickard  that  your  house  is  entirely  finished 
at  last." 

"  If  we  call  it  finished,  Doctor,"  replied  the  parson's 
wife,  with  a  dubious  smile.  "  I  suppose  a  man  would 
call  it  done." 

"  But  a  little  healthful  exercise  remains  for  the  dom- 
inie," suggested  the  doctor. 

"  Mr.  Robbins  has  no  time  for  mechanical  labors,"  — 
began  the  young  wife,  rather  primly,  but  was  interrupted 
by  a  genial  voice,  as  a  handsome  though  somewhat 
portly  figure  stepped  past  her  out  of  the  door. 

"  Good  morning  to  you,  Doctor !  Is  my  wife  telling 
ill  tales  of  me  to  my  own  deacon  ?  " 


142  DR,  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


"  Good  morrow  to  you,  Parson,  but  the  ill  tales  are 
no  more  certain  than  that  I  am  a  deacon,  or  shall  be." 

"  Yes,  yes.  Doctor  LeBaron,  you  must  serve  the  Lord 
like  the  rest  of  us,  when  you  are  called  to  it.  Why 
I  —  good-by  Jennie,  for  a  little  time  "  — 

And  with  an  affectionate  look  into  his  wife's  eyes,  the 
parson  stepped  down,  and  moving  along  by  the  doctor's 
side,  continued  in  a  lower  tone,  — 

"  I  depend  upon  you,  sir,  as  a  man  older  than  my- 
self, a  godly  physician  of  the  body,  as  I  of  the  soul,  and 
one  who  knows  this  place  and  people,  as  a  stranger  can- 
not. It  is  an  awful  responsibility,  Doctor,  yes,  awful  to 
be  placed,  as  one  who  must  give  account  for  their  souls, 
over  one's  fellow  mortals,  and  already  I  feel  at  times  to 
say  with  Moses,  '  I  am  not  able  to  bear  all  this  people 
alone,  because  it  is  too  heavy  for  me,'  and  I  fear  indeed 
that,  having  preached  to  others,  I  shall  at  the  last  be 
found  a  castaway." 

The  doctor's  eyes  rested  keenly  upon  the  speaker's 
face,  marking  the  painful  flush,  the  knitted  brow,  the 
tense  lines  about  the  mouth,  and  then  slipping  his  hand 
within  the  other's  arm,  he  turned  his  footsteps  up  the 
steep  ascent  of  Burying  Hill,  while  he  slowly  an- 
swered, — 

"  It  seems  to  me,  brother,  that  one  set  apart  for 
Moses'  work,  should  strive  rather  for  Moses'  faith  and 
reliance  upon  God,  than  echo  those  impatient  sayings 
and  lapses  of  confidence  which  in  the  end  led  to  his 
notable  punishment." 

"  True,  true  indeed  !  "  murmured  the  young  divine. 
"Unstable  as  water  —  a  faithless  shepherd — a  sloth- 
ful servant !  " 

"  Nay,  now.  Parson,  nay,"  interrupted  the  doctor  in  a 


TEE  KING  IS  DEAD  I 


143 


lighter  tone,  " 't  is  no  better  than  selfconceit  to  turn 
Moses  and  the  prophets  and  the  gospels  into  accusation 
against  yourself.  It  is  only  Paul  who  dared  call  him- 
self chief  among  siimers,  —  for  my  part  I  am  content 
to  rank  myself  among  the  multitude,  bad  enough,  no 
doubt,  but  not  excelling,  even  in  wickedness." 

"  Perhaps  that  is  more  salutary  humility  than  the 
other,"  said  the  minister,  pondering. 

"  'T  is  more  likely  to  be  true.  But  come,  now,  par- 
son, if  you  do  really  feel  that  my  experience  of  this 
people,  and  the  fact  of  my  having  after  my  own  fashion 
served  the  Lord  for  more  than  twice  your  lifetime, 
make  me  an  adviser  who  can  be  of  use  —  a  sort  of 
Joshua  to  your  Moses,  able  to  bear  up  your  hands  when 
human  strength  fails,  —  why,  I  will  be  your  deacon  if 
the  church  calls  me  to  it." 

"  And  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  we  both  serve,  I  thank 
you  most  heartily  "  — 

One  moment,  please  I  As  I  understand  this  office 
of  deacon,  there  is  no  spiritual  charge  laid  upon  me, 
nothing  answerable  to  the  office  of  deacon  in  the  English 
(yhurch,  where  it  is  the  first  step  in  Holy  Orders  ?  " 

Oh  no,  oh  no.  Our  deacons  in  the  Calvinistic  re- 
form of  the  old  Church,  are  more  like  those  of  the 
Primitive  time,  Stephen,  Philip,  and  the  rest,  men  set 
apart  to  serve  tables,  succor  the  poor,  see  that  all  things 
are  done  decently  and  in  order,  and  look  after  the  tem- 
poralities of  the  church;  the  office  is  not  that  of  a 
ruling  elder,  like  our  venerable  Brother  Faunce,  so  lately 
gone  to  his  rest.  That  office  will  now,  I  think,  fall  into 
disuse." 

"  So  be  it,  then,  —  ah,  there  is  my  old  friend,  Leonard. 
I  heard  he  was  in  town." 


144    DR.  LeBARON  and  his  DAUGHTERS. 


"Then  I  will  leave  you,"  replied  the  minister,  hur- 
riedly. "  The  Reverend  Mr.  Leonard  and  I  hold  certain 
points  of  difference  "  — 

"Being  an  older  man,  he  is  not  so  rigid  as  to  the 
lines  limiting  salvation,"  suggested  the  doctor,  with  his 
whimsical  smile ;  but  his  companion  merely  bowed  hur- 
riedly, and  pursued  his  way  over  the  hill,  while  LeBaron 
swerving  to  the  left,  climbed  the  steep  little  ascent, 
once  the  eastern  face  of  the  Pilgrim  Fort,  and  joined 
the  gaunt,  worn  figure  of  the  man  who  stood  with  folded 
arms  and  fixed  gaze,  looking  down  upon  the  village  at 
his  feet,  even  as  Myles  Standish,  a  hundred  and  thirty 
years  earlier,  had  stood  upon  the  selfsame  spot,  and 
watched  the  Mayflower  swinging  at  her  anchor,  while 
he  pondered  the  possibilities  of  the  future. 

"  Hi,  neighbor  !  Glad  to  see  you  again,"  cried  the 
doctor,  panting  a  little  over  the  shrewd  ascent. 

"  And  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  sir.  I  was  thinking  to 
enter  your  doors  once  more  before  I  leave  this  place, 
forever." 

"  And  so  you  shall ;  come  and  eat  your  dinner  with 
me  to-day,  and  many  a  day  beside  I  hope." 

"  Nay,  the  Lord  hath  told  me  that  my  time  is  at  hand. 
I  came  hither  to-day  to  look  once  more  upon  the  place 
where  I,  all  unworthy,  served  Him  for  five  and  thirty 
years,  and  strove  with  His  people  even  in  their  own 
despite,  if  by  any  means  I  might  save  some ;  —  and  yet, 
I  fear  me,  I  fear  me !  "  — 

"  Truly,  friend,  if  the  Lord  is  as  hard  and  as  grudging 
a  master  as  you  parsons  make  Him  out,  it  is  but  sorry 
work  to  try  to  serve  Him." 

"  What,  does  yon  sleek  and  comely  youth,  with  his 
college  honors  and  bi3  skill  in  tongues,  and  his  adherence 


THE  KING  IS  DEAD! 


145 


to  the  most  straitest  sect,  —  does  he  find  the  field  a 
thorny  one,  and  the  talent  a  sore  responsibility  ?  "  asked 
Leonard,  excitement  blazing  in  his  haggard  eyes,  and  a 
bitter  smile  playing  about  his  mouth. 

He  feels  his  responsibility  as  an  honest  minister 
must  do,"  replied  the  doctor  cautiously.  "  Are  you  for 
a  walk,  minister  ?  I  have  to  go  and  visit  a  woman  just 
by  here,  at  Prince's  Bottom,  and  the  good  folk  will  be 
glad  enough  to  see  you,  too."  But  the  sore-hearted  man 
did  not  hear  him. 

"  When  I  look  over  this  village,  and  think  how  I  have 
toiled  among  its  people,"  exclaimed  he,  waving  a  gaunt 
arm  over  the  peaceful  view  spread  out  at  his  feet, 
"  when  I  consider  how  I  tried  every  means,  perhaps 
unlawful  and  ill-advised  means,  when  I  brought  Gilbert 
Tennant  here,  and  set  him  to  cry  aloud,  as  a  watchman 
who  sees  the  enemy  coming  on  apace  "  — 

"  Ay,  but  when  he  cried  aloud  from  the  pulpit,  that 
two  thirds  of  our  communicants  then  partaking  of  the 
Lord's  Supper,  were  unconverted  men  and  women,  what- 
ever else  he  said  was  swallowed  up  in  the  obloquy  of 
such  an  accusation,"  interrupted  the  doctor,  rather 
hotly,  for  both  he  and  his  wife  had  been  among  those 
communicants. 

"  Well,  well, — there  was  George  Whitefield,  later  on  ; 
none  could  say  that  he  was  lacking  in  charity,  or  Chris- 
tain  courtesy." 

"  No,  he  was  a  wonderful  —  a  truly  wonderful 
preacher." 

"  And  it  was  I  who  brought  him  to  Plymouth,  and 
gave  my  people  this  added  means  of  grace  ! "  exclaimed 
Leonard.  "  Yes,  and  it  was  I  who  moved  men's  hearts 
to  renew  the  house  of  God,  fallen  to  decay.    It  was  I 


146  DK  LeBaron  and  eis  daughters. 


who  visiting  from  house  to  house,  so  exhorted,  so  pleaded, 
so  insisted,  that  even  the  children  gave  their  pennies, 
and  the  women  their  hoarded  shillings  into  the  treasury 
of  the  temple,  and  not  eight  years  since,  this  goodly 
House  at  our  feet  was  raised  with  prayer  and  thanks- 
giving, and  they  who  were  merry  among  us  sang  psalms, 
and  joyful  shouts  of  praise  went  up,  and  many  a  man 
gi^asped  me  by  the  hand  and  thanked  me,  that  I  had  led 
them  on  to  this  good  work.  And  now  I  stand  here,  a 
stranger,  and  an  alien,  and  another  man  enters  into  my 
labors." 

"  Do  you  see  this  grave.  Parson  ? 

"  Yes.     'T  is  that  of  Yetmercy  Ring,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Ay,  and  that  poor  child  died  blessing  you,  who  had 
not  shrunk  from  her  loathly  disease,  but  had,  like  the  true 
shepherd,  carried  her  in  your  bosom  until  you  placed 
her  in  the  arms  of  her  Saviour.  Is  not  one  such  memory 
enough  to  sweeten  a  good  deal  of  bitterness  ?  " 

Leonard  made  no  reply,  but  taking  off  his  hat  stood 
for  a  moment  bareheaded,  beside  the  lonely  grave,  not  in 
prayer  for  the  departed  soul,  which  would  have  been  to 
him  a  grievous  sin,  but  perhaps  laying  a  rebellious  and 
disappointed  heart  at  its  Maker's  Feet. 

The  doctor  keenly  eyed  the  face,  thus  bared  to  the 
scorching  morning  light,  and  saw  there  the  shadows  of 
a  hand  already  poised  to  release  the  self-tormented 
spirit  from  its  weary  and  decaying  tabernacle,  and  as 
the  parson  resumed  his  hat,  he  once  more  placed  his 
hand  within  his  arm  and  gently  said,  — 

"After  all,  I'll  drive  instead  of  walking,  and  while 
Quash  harnesses,  we  '11  step  in  and  see  your  Sarah  and 
my  Joe,  and  their  pretty  bantlings*" 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


MARGOT. 

"  I  AM  going  to  take  the  chaise  this  morning,  Bess ; 
do  you  want  to  drive  with  me  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,  father,  but  I  promised  Phyllis  I 'd  help 
her  do  up  the  damsons  and  greengages  to-day." 

"  Ay,  ay ;  well,  do  enough  to  fit  out  two  houses 
while  you  are  about  it.  You  '11  want  something  sweet 
to  make  up  for  home.    I  '11  take  Pris,  where  is  she  ?  " 

"  Oh  what  a  pity,  but  she  has  gone  to  see  Lucy 
Hammatt.  I  believe  they  were  to  ride  into  the  woods 
after  frost  grapes." 

"  And  Lucy's  brother  Abr'am  was  to  go  along  and 
take  care  of  them,  I  dare  say  !  Oh,  well,  the  poor  old 
father  is  to  be  left  all  alone,  I  see.  Lyddy,  and  Molly, 
and  Nan,  all  with  homes  of  their  own,  and  Tressy  in 
the  Barbadoes,  and  now,  you  're  just  on  the  wing,  and 
Pris  cares  more  for  that  swarthy  lad  than  for  any  of 
her  own  kin,  and  my  little  Margaret  is  the  only  one 
who  will  remain  to  civilize  this  bear-garden  of  boys,  — 
yes,  and  they  are  all  marrying,  too,  but  that  does  not  so 
much  matter." 

"  O  father,  you  do  break  my  heart  —  in  very  truth 
I  will  stay  at  home  and  that  right  joyfully  if  you  need 
me !  " 

"  And  would  you,  lass  ?  "  demanded  the  father,  taking 
his  comely  daughter  by  the  shoulders,  and  gazing  into 


148  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


her  face.  Not  so  beautiful  a  face  as  Teresa's,  not  so 
grand  and  imposing  as  Lydia's,  but  a  very  sweet  and 
lovely  face,  pale,  yet  bright,  and  radiating  a  light  of 
goodness  that  impressed  every  one  who  beheld  it.  Par- 
son Robbin's  brother  Ammy  thought  it  the  most  beauti- 
ful face  in  the  world,  and  when  those  soft  blue  eyes 
smiled,  '  yes,'  into  his  own,  and  the  gentle  lips  promised 
that  the  new  parsonage  at  Norfolk  in  Connecticut  should 
not  long  lack  a  mistress,  the  young  minister  feared  that 
earth  was  becoming  too  delightsome  an  abode  for  "a 
pilgrim  and  a  stranger."  Those  sweet  lips  and  sweeter 
eyes  are  tremulous  with  tears  just  now,  yet  bravely 
answer,  — 

"  In  very  truth  I  would,  father." 

"  Thou  'It  make  a  good  wife,  girl,  who  art  so  good  a 
daughter.  Nay  then,  don't  mind  my  grumbling,  Bess, 
—  I 'm  getting  an  old  man,  and  cross,  but  not  such  an 
ogre  as  to  devour  maidens'  lives.  Kiss  me,  girl,  and  go 
to  thy  pickling  and  potting." 

'T  is  preserving,  father  !  "  And  a  showery  laugh 
made  sudden  sunshine  upon  the  face  but  now  so  piteous. 
"And,  father  dear,  if  you  will  take  Margaret  for  the 
drive,  I  '11  have  her  ready  in  a  little  minute." 

"  Yes,  I  '11  take  Margot.  She  '11  chatter  my  head  off, 
and  drive  away  the  sulks.  Never  mind  her  dress,  I 'm 
only  going  out  to  Ponds,  and  they  're  not  fastidious  in 
toilets  over  there." 

In  five  minutes,  father." 

And  in  little  more  the  chaise  was  at  the  door,  young 
Pompey  anxiously  smoothing  away  some  patches  of  dust 
from  the  sorrel  mare's  sleek  sides  and  putting  forelock 
and  mane  in  their  most  becoming  pose. 

"  Pomp,  you  have  n't  combed  that  mare  this  morn- 


MARGOT, 


149 


ing !  "  exclaimed  the  doctor  sternly,  as  he  placed  a  foot 
on  the  step. 

'^Wy,  mas'r,  I  done  curry-comb  him  till  I  fotch 
blood  an'  got  scare.  Unc'  Quash,  he  say.w'en  he  hear 
parson  talk  'bout  all  f olkses  made  o'  dus'  an'  gwine  back 
to  it,  he  alluz  t'ink  o'  ole  Kate,  an'  won'er  ef  she  ain' 
mos'  got  back  to  de  fus'  beginnin'." 

"  See  here.  Pomp !  I  think  it 's  the  dust  in  your 
jacket  that  gets  on  the  mare,  and  I 'm  going  to  tell  your 
father  he  should  take  a  nice  limber  hickory  rod  and  try 
to  get  it  out.  As  for  Quash,  he 'd  better  consider 
Deacon  Foster's  Boston,  and  Mr.  Barnes's  Nero,  who 
were  dealt  with  by  the  church,  last  Sunday  "  — 

"  Here  am  I,  papa !  "  interrupted  a  blithe  voice,  and 
a  little  maid  of  eight  or  ten  bright  summers  darted  out 
of  the  house  and  into  the  chaise  followed  by  Elizabeth 
with  a  warm  gray  shawl  in  her  hand. 

"  Nay,  Peggy,  but  you  must  take  this  j  it  will  be  cold 
on  the  shore  road,  and  "  — 

"  Throw  it  in,  Bess !  I  '11  see  that  she  wraps  herself 
if  there 's  need.    Good-by,  child." 

"  Good-by,  father,  —  be  a  good  girl,  Peggy." 

"  Of  course  I  '11  be  a  good  girl,  for  I  shall  be  happy, 
and  when  I 'm  happy  I 'm  always  good." 

"  Oh,  that 's  your  reading  of  it,  is  it,  Miss  Margot  ?  " 
demanded  her  father,  looking  affectionately  down  at  the 
sparkling  and  glowing  little  face  upturned  to  his  ;  —  a 
face  that  reminded  one  of  Teresa's,  but  more  vivid, 
more  mundane,  more  mutinous,  and  more  combative. 

"  Reading  of  what,  papa  ?  Oh,  see,  there 's  Becca 
Fuller  and  little  Molly,  I  wonder  if  Molly  don't  wish 
she  were  in  my  place  and  if  she  don't  wonder  where 
we  're  going.    Where  are  we  going,  papa  ?  " 


150  DK  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


"  We  *re  going  to  Ponds,  chatterbox,  and  first  of  all 
to  the  Miss  Nourses.  Then  I  want  to  take  you  to  see  a 
little  girl  of  your  own  age  who  is  very  unhappy.  Her 
mother  is  dying,  and  I  don't  know  where  she  will  find 
a  home.  You  can  be  kind  to  her  and  say  something 
comfortable,  can't  you,  Margot  ? 

"  I  don't  like  people  that  are  unhappy,  papa,  nor  poor 
people,  either,"  replied  the  child  decisively.  "  They 
are  so  shady  and  I  like  the  sunshine.  Let  us  talk 
French  now,  papa." 

^'  But,  Margot,  this  little  girl  is  almost  as  French  as 
you  are.  Your  grandfather  was  a  Frenchman,  and  her 
grandmother  was  a  Frenchwoman,  although,  I  dare  say, 
they  do  not  think  as  much  about  it  as  we  do." 

What  is  her  name  ?  "  inquired  Margaret,  tentatively, 
the  little  girl's,  I  mean." 

"  Deborah  Samson." 

*•  Oh,  that 's  a  very  ugly  name,  and  not  at  all  French. 
Now  I  am  Marguerite  LeBaron,  and  that  is  very 
French." 

You  little  monkey !  Well,  Deborah's  grandmother 
was  named  Bathsheba  LeBroche,  and  she  was  a  very 
elegant  demoiselle  who  came  from  Paris  with  her  father 
when  I  was  a  boy,  and  married  one  of  the  Bradfords, 
which  brings  her  children  kin  with  you,  my  dear,  since 
your  mother  was  a  Bradford." 

"  Why,  Deborah  Samson  is  the  wife  of  that  Captain 
Samson  who  used  to  bring  me  sugar-stick,  and  she  lives 
in  King  Street  now,  and  Tressy  didn't  like  her  —  at 
least,  she  did  n't  want  me  to  talk  about  her  —  did  Cap- 
tain Samson  do  anything  naughty,  or  why  did  n't  he 
come  any  more  to  bring  me  sugar-stick  and  have  his 
dinner  ?  " 


MARGOT. 


161 


"  See  those  gulls,  Margot  I  Ha,  't  is  a  fine  sight, 
child,  look  you  now  !  " 

And  drawing  rein  on  the  crest  of  the  hill  just  beyond 
Jabez'  Corner,  the  doctor  leaned  forward,  his  elbow  on 
his  knee,  drinking  in  the  beauty  of  that  wonderfully 
beautiful  view. 

Look,  Margot,  they  are  at  work  upon  the  lighthouse 
at  the  Gurnet's  Head.  See  the  line  like  a  spider's 
thread  against  the  blue  sky !  'T  is  the  derrick  they 
have  set  up  to  lift  the  stones  to  the  top.  And  beyond; 
you  can  see  the  houses  in  Marshfield,  and  what  a  glory 
of  color  and  light  fills  the  sky,  and  sparkles  on  the  sea ! 
Learn  to  see  Nature,  and  to  love  her,  child,  and  you  '11 
spare  yourself  many  a  little  fret  and  jar.  Your  wor- 
ricows  are  always  short-sighted  people." 

"  And  there  are  one,  two,  oh,  twenty  ships  coming  in, 
papa.  Some  of  them  will  be  from  the  West  Indies  with 
fruit  and  sweeties  for  me.  Perhaps  one  is  from  Barba- 
does  and  there  is  a  box  from  Tressy.  When  will 
Tressy  come  home,  papa  ?  " 

Your  brother  needs  her  to  look  after  him  and  his 
little  ones,''  replied  the  doctor,  in  a  constrained  voice. 

See  there  is  a  brig  flying  your  brother  Goodwin's  pri- 
vate signal !    Lyddy  will  have  another  silk  gown." 

"  She  has  too  many  now,"  exclaimed  the  child,  pet- 
tishly. "  She  is  too  rustly,  —  I  like  nice  soft  people  like 
Tressy  and  Bess.  Papa,  is  there  any  ship  there  from 
France  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  tell  so  far  away,  but  pry  thee,  little  maid, 
why  do  you  care  so  much  for  France,  which  you  never 
saw  ?  Come,  now,  if  we  have  time,  instead  of  going  to 
see  Deborah  Samson,  we  will  drive  to  Oberry,  where  some 
of  the  French  Neutrals  live,  and  you  shall  try  your  skill 
in  talking  French  with  the  little  lasses  there." 


152   DR,  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


"  Oh,  yes,  papa,  that  will  be  fine,  but  how  came 
French  people  in  Oberry  ? 

"  'T  is  a  sad  story,  Margot,  yes,  and  a  bad  story,  too. 
A  great  many  years  ago,  much  longer  ago  than  when 
your  grandfather  came  to  this  country,  a  company  of 
emigrants  from  Normandy,"  — 

"In  the  north  of  France,  but  we  came  from  the 
south,"  interrupted  the  child. 

"  Ay  ?  I  am  glad  to  know  that,  mademoiselle !  Pray 
how  did  you  find  it  out  ?  But  let  me  tell  my  story,  and 
don't  interrupt.    It  is  not  good  manners." 

"  I  will  be  gentile^'  murmured  Margot,  with  a  little 
grimace,  and  the  doctor  went  on  in  a  dreamy  sort  of 
voice,  — 

"  Commg  trom  tne  norrn,  tney  settled  in  the  north  of 
this  country,  and  named  their  home  Acadie,  because  it 
was  so  fair.  It  is  now  called  Nova  Scotia,  and  some 
hard,  cold,  money-getting  people  from  England  and 
Scotland  call  it  their  land  and  their  home." 

"Well,  papa!"  — 

"  Oh,  yes,  —  I  was  forgetting  I  had  other  company 
than  my  own.  Well,  dear,  Acadie  belonged  then  to 
France,  but  England  wanted  it,  and  so  by  purchase  and 
by  conquest  it  became  hers.  But  these  dear  people 
of  Acadie  were  not  to  be  bought  and  sold  like  their 
lands,  nor  were  they  easily  to  be  conquered,  for  they 
loved  their  own  country,  their  beautiful  France,  and 
they  would  not  even  pretend  to  be  the  subjects  of  the 
enemy  of  France." 

"  Is  that  England,  papa  ?  " 

"  Yes,  child.  So  a  few  years  ago,  an  army,  and  one 
of  our  townsmen  in  command  of  it  —  was  sent  to  drive 
these  people  out,  to  scatter  them  up  and  down  in  a  land 


M ARGOT. 


153 


where  they  knew  not  the  customs,  or  the  language,  or 
the  means  of  livelihood,  their  property  confiscated, 
their  families  divided,  only  their  lives  left,  and  they, 
ruined." 

''Oh,  papa!" 

"  I  warned  you  that  it  was  a  sad  tale,  child,  and  yet 
you  should  know  it,  for  it  is  history.  The  English  gov- 
ernment ordered,  and  our  own  townsman  was  so  unfor- 
tunate as  to  be  obliged  to  carry  out  the  mandate,  that 
the  village  of  Grand  Pr^,  in  the  Basin  of  Minas  in 
Acadie,  should  be  depopulated,  all  property  confiscated, 
and  the  lands  revert  to  the  British  Crown.  I  dare  saj 
Winslow  did  as  well  as  he  could,  but  it  was  sorry  worl 
for  an  honest  man.  The  men  were  captured  in  theii 
church  and  thrust  on  board  the  war  vessels,  and  the 
women  and  children  followed,  but  no  pains  were  taken 
to  keep  the  families  together,  or  to  trans-ship  those  who 
were  divided  —  surely  that  might  have  been  done ! 
The  houses  were  burned,  the  herds  and  flocks  left  to 
die  of  neglect,  the  crops  to  perish  on  the  ground  "  — 

''  Oh,  papa !    It  seems  as  if  it  were  I  who  was  hurt." 

"  There  speaks  your  French  blood,  Margot !  Yes, 
to  me  it  has  always  seemed  as  if  it  were  I  and  mine 
who  were  so  cruelly  dealt  with,  and  I  was  glad  when 
General  Winslow  brought  some  of  his  captives  within 
my  reach.  Seventeen  of  them  came  to  the  Old  Colony 
with  him,  and  about  half  that  number  live  up  here  at 
Oberry,  the  rest  in  Kingston  and  Marshfield." 

"  And  you  will  take  me  to  see  them,  dear  papa  ?  " 

''Yes,  if  there  is  time  after  my  visit  to  the  Miss 
Nourses,  but  here  we  are  at  their  door.  Sit  you  still, 
till  I  see  if  I  have  to  stay  any  time ;  or,  no,  you  had  bet- 
ter get  out  and  look  at  the  turkeys ;  they  have  a  big 


154   DR.  LeBARON  and  his  DAUGHTERS. 

flock,  and  a  peacock  as  well."  So  Margot,  forgetting 
Acadie  and  its  tragedy,  ran  and  skipped  after  the  tur- 
keys, and  picked  herself  a  posy,  and  munched  an  apple 
or  two,  and  enjoyed  the  crisp  autumn  air  and  the  new 
scene,  with  all  the  volatile  facility  of  her  French  nature. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


"who  salted  this  pudding?'* 

"And  how  is  Miss  Kezia,  to-day?"  inquired  the 
doctor,  as  he  unceremoniously  walked  into  the  kitchen 
of  the  primitive  old  farmhouse,  thereby  seriously  start- 
ling a  long,  lank,  and  yellow  woman  of  uncertain  age 
who  just  then  entered  the  room,  bearing  a  twelve  quart 
pan  of  milk  in  her  hands. 

"  Land  o'  Goshen,  Doctor  !  You 've  sca'at  me  out 
of  a  week's  growth ! exclaimed  she,  setting  down  the 
milk-pan,  wiping  her  bony  hand  upon  a  generous  apron 
of  blue  and  white  homespun  check,  and  then  shaking 
hands  with  the  added  welcome  of  a  gap-toothed  smile. 
"How  d>  do?" 

"  If  the  week's  growth  would  have  been  lateral  I 
beg  your  pardon,  if  vertical  I  congratulate  you.  Miss 
Mimy.  I  am  very  well,"  replied  the  doctor,  gravely 
reciprocating  the  handshake,  and  smiling  at  one  corner 
of  his  mouth.    "  But  how  is  Miss  Kezia  ?  " 

"  Well,  she  ain't  a  mite  better,  and  that 's  a  fact.  I 
sez  to  Keery  only  this  morning,  sez  I,  '  Keery,  I 'm  most 
afraid  it 's  a-going  to  go  hard  with  Keezy,  I  am.'  " 

"Oh,  I  hope  not,  I  hope  not,"  replied  the  doctor, 
kindly.    "  Shall  I  go  up  to  see  her  ?  " 

"  Well,  if  you  '11  please  be  seated  just  a  minute,  I  '11 
run  up  and  see.    Teer  and  Do  are  settin'  with  her  just 


156   DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


now.  Keery  and  I  watched.  Take  the  roundabout, 
Doctor." 

"  Don't  hurry  yourself,  Miss  Mirny,  I  can  wait  a  lit- 
tle," and  the  doctor,  drawing  the  roundabout  chair 
with  its  patchwork  cushion  near  the  fireplace,  big  and 
cavernous  as  those  others  which  we  have  contemplated, 
rubbed  his  hands  over  the  cheerful  blaze,  and  mur- 
mured with  a  smile,  "  '  In  all  the  land  were  no  women 
found  so  fair  as  the  daughters  of  Job,'  —  but  the  charm 
has  been  broken  by  transplantation !  " 

And  in  effect,  Job  Nourse,  torn  between  a  native 
sense  of  humor,  and  an  implanted  horror  of  such  light 
conversation  and  pursuits  as  occupy  the  unconverted, 
had,  like  many  of  his  co-religionists,  found  his  amuse- 
ment among  those  sacred  matters  which  the  uncon- 
verted generally  respectfully  let  alone,  and  had  named 
his  three  elder  daughters,  Jemima,  Kezia,  and  Keren- 
Happuch ;  some  years  later,  a  brace  of  twin  girls  closed 
the  family  record,  and  these.  Parson  Leonard,  then  just 
settled  in  Plymouth,  insisted  upon  naming  Dorothea 
and  Theodora,  soon  contracted  to  Do  and  Teer,  while 
the  first  three  softened  into  Mimy,  Keezy,  and  Keery. 

But  now  Job  slept  with  his  fathers,  leaving  his  five 
daughters  to  carry  on  the  farm  by  the  aid  of  "  hired 
help,"  and  to  prove,  long  before  the  question  was  ever 
agitated,  "  woman's  right "  to  do  man's  work  if  she  has 
capacity  and  opportunity,  and  to  eat  her  bread  in  the 
sweat  of  her  brow  and  the  wear  and  tear  of  her  nervous 
system. 

"  Will  you  be  pleased  to  step  up  stairs,  Doctor,"  said 
a  more  childish  voice  than  Jemima's  at  the  doctor's  back, 
and  rising  with  a  smile  he  held  out  his  hand,  saying :  — 

"  Good  morning,  Miss  Teer.  I  am  glad  to  see  you 
looking  so  well  1  " 


''WHO  SALTED  THIS  PUDDING?"  157 


"  Well,  I 'm  td'able,  thank  you,  Doctor,  but  we  're 
consid'able  worried  over  Keezy.  She  don't  seem  to 
gain  none." 

"  Let  us  see,  let  us  see,  my  dear,'*  replied  the  doctor, 
vaguely,  as  he  obeyed  the  summons. 

A  little  half  hour  later  he  returned,  followed  by 
Keery,  or  Keren-Happuch,  the  longest,  leanest,  and  yel- 
lowest of  the  five  sisters. 

I  will  wait  for  a  while  and  watch  the  effect  of  the 
draught  I  have  just  given,"  said  he  gravely.  "  If  that 
does  not  do,  I  shall  try  something  stronger." 

And  anyway  you  '11  stop  over  dinner,  won't  you. 
Doctor  ?  Of  course  you  will,  though  we  know  our  livin' 
is  n't  like  what  you  get  down  town  to  Squire  Lothrop's, 
and  Mr.  Elkanah  Watson's,  and  them  folks,  not  to  men- 
tion your  own,  which  I 'm  sure  is  just  as  good  as  any 
one's  or  was  in  your  wife's  time,  the  first  one  I  mean, 
she  that  was  a  Bartlett,  and  the  Bartletts  was  always 
famous  for  good  living  "  — 

"  I  '11  stay  with  much  pleasure.  Miss  Keery,  but  I 
don't  suppose  you  could  give  my  little  girl  anything. 
You  never  have  symbols  up  here  at  Ponds,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Why,  of  course  we  have  simballs.  Doctor  LeBaron, 
—  well,  there  now,  ain't  I  a  chowder-head,  not  to  see 
that  you  was  only  poking  fun  at  me.  Yes,  indeed,  we  '11 
find  a  simball  for  the  little  girl,  and  some  dinner  too. 
Which  of  'em  is  it.  Doctor  ?    Little  Teresy  ?  " 

No,"  —  and  a  tone  of  pain  struck  through  the  doc- 
tor's cheery  voice,  "  there 's  only  one  to  be  called  little 
now,  and  that  is  Margaret,  the  youngest.  I  left  her  out 
there  looking  after  the  turkeys." 

"  Land  sake  !  I  hope  that  old  gobbler  won't  run  at 
her!  He  takes  a  notion  to  fight  children  once  in  a 
while." 


158  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


"  He 'd  better  not  try  to  fight  Margot,  she 'd  make 
short  work  of  him,"  laughed  the  doctor.  "  But  I  '11  go 
and  look  after  her  and  the  horse.'* 

"  Let  me  go,  Doctor ;  I 'd  like  to  show  the  little  girl 
my  posy  bed,  and  things,  and  I  '11  holler  to  Jabez  to 
put  up  your  horse.  You  set  right  down  to  the  fire  and 
wait.    Guess  I  '11  salt  that  pudding  'fore  I  go  out." 

And  swinging  forward  the  crane  Keren-Happuch 
peered  into  a  kettle  hanging  from  it,  stirred  the  con- 
tents vigorously  with  a  flattened  stick  left  boiling  in  it, 
threw  in  a  small  handful  of  salt  from  a  cloth  bag  sus- 
pended in  the  chimney-corner,  and  replacing  the  cover 
so  far  as  the  stick  would  allow,  swung  the  kettle  back 
to  its  temperate  corner,  and  went  out.  Hardly  had  the 
door  closed  behind  her  than  another  opened  to  admit 
Jemima,  who  came  in  rolling  down  her  sleeves,  and 
wearing  the  half  smile  of  conscious  deserving. 

"  There,  I  Ve  done  out  thirty  pound  of  butter  this 
morning  'sides  all  my  tearing  round  after  that  chore  boy 
who  never  does  a  thing  without  I 'm  at  his  heels.  Be 
your  folks  going  to  want  a  kag  o'  butter  this  Fall,  Doc- 
tor?" 

"  Oh  yes,  that  was  one  thing  my  Bess  told  me  to  re- 
member this  morning,  and  I  believe  she  wants  some 
fresh  butter  to-day,  if  you  have  some  not  salted." 

^'  Now  that 's  too  bad.  I  have  n't  got  a  mite  of  butter 
in  the  house  but  what 's  salted,  but  I  '11  churn  again  in 
three  days  time  if  I  live,  and  I  '11  set  out  four  or  five 
pounds  for  you  before  I  go  anigh  the  salt-bag,  though 
how  you  can  like  that  mis'able  brashy  stuff  I  don't  see. 
Why  even  the  Bible  says  '  salt  is  good,'  and  you  're  a 
Bible  Christian  I  know.  Doctor." 

But  the  doctor  did  not  reply,  his  whole  attention  be- 


"WHO  SALTED  THIS  PUDDING?*'  159 


ing  concentrated  on  a  psychological  phenomenon,  en* 
acted  before  him.  When  Jemima  spoke  of  the  salt- 
bag,  her  eyes  traveled  toward  it,  and  as  she  expati- 
ated upon  the  virtues  of  salt,  her  feet  automatically  fol- 
lowed her  eyes,  and,  her  hand  groping  for  the  mouth  of 
the  bag  and  seizing  a  portion  of  the  salt,  she  finished  by 
throwing  it  into  the  mush-kettle,  and  vigorously  stirring 
the  contents,  while  her  poor  faded  eyes  fastened  upon 
the  doctor's  face,  eagerly  demanding  assent  to  her  last 
proposition.  It  was  a  delightful  instance  of  a  dual  ac- 
tion of  the  brain,  and  interested  the  doctor  exceedingly. 

"  Keery  !  Keery  !  I  want  you  a  minute  !  "  called  a 
voice  from  up  stairs,  and  Miss  Mimy,  hastily  swinging 
back  the  mush-kettle,  hastened  to  obey  the  summons. 
A  whispered  colloquy  ensued,  and  through  the  half-open 
door  Theodora  and  Dorothea  slid  into  the  room,  their 
arms  entwined  in  that  girlish  abandon  so  attractive  in 
maidens  of  forty  or  thereabout. 

0  Doctor,  we  're  so  glad  you  are  going  to  stay  to 
dinner,  though  we  have  n't  anything  but  very  common 
doings,  to-day, —  began  Do. 

"  I  don't  know  as  we  have  any  day,"  added  Teer,  in 
a  giggle,  and  then  both  giggled,  for  one  of  the  charms  of 
these  twins  was,  that  whatever  one  did  the  other  also  did, 
the  reason  probably  that  neither  ever  married,  since  the 
law  forbids  two  women,  although  twins,  to  marry  one 
man. 

"  I  hope  the  pudding  has  n't  got  burned,"  chirruped 
Teer,  running  toward  the  fire. 

^'  Oh,  I  hope  not !  "  echoed  Do,  running  after  her 
and  pressing  close  to  her  sister's  side  as  she  drew  out 
the  kettle  and  peered  into  it. 

No,  I  guess  not,  it  stirs  free,"  answered  Teer,  plun- 
ging her  hand  into  the  salt-bag,  "  I  '11  salt  it !  " 


160    DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


Let  me  salt  it,  too,"  cried  Do.  "  You  take  half  a 
handful,  and  I  '11  take  half  a  handful,  and  both  of  us 
fling  it  in  together !  "  And  with  much  girlish  demon- 
stration, both  of  their  affection  for  each  other,  and  their 
infantile  condition  of  artlessness,  the  twins  each  took  a 
small  handful  of  salt  out  of  the  bag,  and  stirred  it  into 
the  pudding. 

"  Oh,  Do  !  "  cried  Teer,  with  a  little  skip  of  ecstasy, 
as  they  stepped  back  from  the  fireplace,  "there  is  a 
dear,  sweet  little  girl  coming  up  from  the  barn  with 
Keery  !        she  yours,  Doctor  ?  " 

"  Yes,  a  little  playfellow  for  you  girls,"  replied  the 
doctor,  dryly.  But  the  twins,  without  stopping  to  appre- 
ciate the  sarcasm,  if  indeed  they  could,  were  tripping 
each  other  up,  in  eagerness  to  reach  and  caress  Mar- 
garet, who,  truth  to  tell,  received  their  advances  rather 
disdainfully. 

Left  alone  at  the  fireside.  Doctor  LeBaron  allowed 
himself  a  very  peculiar  liberty,  and  that,  with  a  smile 
much  wider  than  he  generally  enjoyed  ;  drawing  forward 
the  crane  as  he  had  seen  the  others  do,  he  took  off  the 
lid,  grasped  a  good  handful  of  salt  from  the  open  mouth 
of  the  bag,  stirred  it  in,  replaced  the  lid,  and  swung  the 
kettle  back,  just  as  the  twins  with  Keery  and  Margaret 
tripped  through  the  open  door  with  much  shrill  laughter 
and  exclamation. 

They  found  the  doctor  leaning  back  in  the  round- 
about chair,  his  chin  resting  in  his  hand,  his  eyes  medi- 
tatively fixed  on  the  fire. 

"  Your  dear  pa  looks  tired,  Magaretta,"  murnmred 
Teer,  in  a  stage  aside.  "  Go  and  give  him  a  kiss,  I  guess 
that 's  what  he  wants." 

"  Oh,  Teer !  "  giggled  Do,  with  her  hands  pressed 


"WHO  SALTED  THIS  PUDDING 161 


upon  her  mouth,  as  if  to  subdue  immoderate  mirth« 
Ain't  you  ashamed  ?  " 

"  I  sh'd  think  you  might  both  of  you  be  ashamed  to 
some  purpose,"  growled  Keren-Happuch,  who,  having 
been  called  upon  to  "  mother  "  the  twins,  some  twenty 
years  before,  had  not  noticed  that  they  were  now  old 
enough  to  mother  Margaret.  Go  and  set  that  table, 
and  don't  act  like  fools.'' 

Somewhat  subdued  by  this  reproof,  the  babes  obeyed, 
and  in  a  short  time  dinner  was  upon  the  table.  It  con- 
sisted of  two  dishes  literally,  for  the  piece  de  resistance^ 
universally  known  as  "  b'iled  dinner,"  was  all  heaped 
upon  a  huge  pewter  platter,  worth  to-day  more  dollars 
than  the  Miss  Nourses  ever  saw  at  one  time. 

It  consisted  of  a  large  piece  of  corned,  or  rather 
salted,  beef,  another  of  salt  pork,  a  cabbage,  plenty  of 
turnips  arranged  in  a  wreath  around  the  edge  of  the 
platter,  some  dumplings  of  rye  meal,  and  a  few  carrots 
gracefully  garnishing  the  apex  of  the  mound.  A  mighty 
steam,  full  of  flavor  and  odor,  arose  from  the  dish,  and 
Margot,  wrinkling  her  delicate  little  nose,  whispered  in 
French  to  her  father,  — 

It 's  not  nice,  I  don 't  want  any  !  " 

*'Bad  manners,  and  bad  French,  Margot,"  replied 
the  doctor  in  the  same  tone,  while  the  twins,  who,  laugh- 
ing vociferously,  had  retired  to  the  back  kitchen  or  sink- 
room,  as  it  was  called,  carrying  the  mush-kettle  between 
them,  returned,  Do  bearing  a  huge  wooden  bowl  full  of 
golden  nasty-pudding,"  and  Teer,  a  brown  stone  pitcher 
of  buttermilk.  These  were  placed  at  the  other  end  of 
the  table  from  the  pewter  platter  of  b'iled  dinner,  while 
a  smaller  pewter  plate  of  cold  bannocks,  that  is, 
a  thin  cake  of  rye  and  Indian  meal,  baked  in  a  creeper 


162  DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


over  the  coals,  was  put  down  anywhere,  and  Jemima 
emphatically  placing  another  stone  pitcher  of  cider  be- 
side the  milk,  briefly  said,  — 

"  Set  up  to  your  victuals,  folks !  Doctor,  you  sit  in 
father's  place,  poor  man,  and,  sis,  you  come  up  here,  by 
me. 

"  I 'd  rather  sit  by  papa,"  replied  Margot,  her  eyes 
flashing  at  the  address,  and  the  doctor  hastened  to  say,  — 

"  Yes,  Miss  Mimy,  she 's  a  naughty  girl,  sometimes, 
and  I  have  to  keep  her  ears  within  reach." 

"  Oh,  sho,  I  don't  believe  that !  Well,  set  up,  set  up. 
Teer,  you  can  eat  now,  and  then  go  up  and  stay  with 
Keezy  while  Keery  comes  down." 

"  I  '11  have  to  go,  too,"  interposed  Do,  childishly. 

"  Well,  I  guess  you  '11  have  to  stay  down  for  once  and 
help  me  wait  on  the  table  ;  the  doctor  and  little  miss 
ain't  used  to  roughing  it,  same  as  we  are,"  said  Jemima,  a 
little  tartly,  for  something  in  Margot's  manner  and  ex- 
pression had  come  near  her  New  England  pride,  perhaps 
the  most  sensitive  of  any  in  the  world. 

The  doctor's  quick  tact  perceived  the  little  annoyance, 
and  as  he  passed  the  plates,  rapidly  loaded  by  the  hostess 
with  a  portion  of  everything  heaped  upon  the  great  platter, 
he  so  seasoned  the  coarse  fare  with  jest  and  anecdote, 
and  little  flatteries  and  attentions,  that  Miss  Mimy's 
long  yellow  face  was  soon  broadened  by  a  series  of 
smiles,  genially  overlapping  each  other,  and  her  raspy 
voice  completely  lost  its  edge,  while  the  twins  simpered 
and  laughed  and  said,  "Oh  my!"  so  constantly,  that 
when  Jemima  directed,  — 

"  Now,  Do,  take  off  the  b'iled  vittles,  and  let 's  have 
the  pudding  genteel  by  itself,"  poor  Do  had  hardly  eaten 
anything  at  all. 


''WHO  SALTED  THIS  PUDDING?"  163 


"  When  we  have  a  sweet  pudding  and  sa'ace,  Doctor, 
we  have  it  in  the  new-fashioned  way,  before  the  meat," 
explained  Jemima,  wiping  away  the  tears  of  laughter, 
"  but  just  hasty-pudding  so,  we  don't  mind,  and  eat  it 
right  along  any  time.  I 'm  real  mortified  I  did  n't  have 
nothing  fit  to  eat  to-day,  but  I  did  n't  know  as  you 'd 
come  'fore  noon,  and  Keezy  needing  so  much  care,  I 
guess  I 've  got  kind  o'  slack,  but  help  yourself  to  some 
pud'n  now,  and  give  Marg'et  some.  Do  you  like  butter- 
milk along  with  it,  or  melasses  ?  It  ain't  no  use  pre- 
tending, though,  for  fact  is  we  ain't  got  no  melasses 
to-day  ;  we  got  clean  run  out  of  'em  before  I  knew  it, 
and  —  Land  o'  Goshen !  What 's  got  into  this  pudding ! 
Why,  I  know  I  salted  it,  but  —  good  Lord !  Twins,  did 
you  salt  it  too  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  we  both  salted  it !  "  cried  the  twins,  chok- 
ing with  pudding  and  laughter,  and  Keery,  who,  driven 
by  famine,  had  come  down  to  look  after  her  dinner, 
stood  at  the  door  staring,  and  exclaiming  — 

"Ain't  the  pudding  salted?  Why,  I'm  sure  I 
salted  it,  handsome  ?  " 

"And  I  salted  it,"  quietly  remarked  the  doctor  ;  "I 
saw  that  everybody  else  did,  and  I  thought  it  was  the  cus- 
tom of  the  house.    Is  it  too  salt  ?  " 

"  Well,  you  just  take  a  taste,  and  see.  Doctor  Le- 
Baron,"  said  Jemima,  half  inclined  to  be  offended,  but 
concluding  to  laugh,  and  all  the  more  that  Keren-Hap- 
puch  couldn 't  see  the  joke,  and  insisted  upon  having  it 
explained. 

"Well,  there 's  the  simballs,  anyway!  "  exclaimed  she, 
at  length.  "  Maybe  they  '11  go  good  enough  with  a  piece 
of  cheese  and  some  cider,  though  I  was  laying  out  to 
wrop  'em  up  and  give  'em  to  sis  to  eat  going  home. 
Children  are  always  hungry." 


164    DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


"  So  am  I,  —  for  your  '  simballs,'  said  the  doctor  in  a 
plaintive  voice,  which  made  them  all  laugh  again,  while 
Mirny  going  into  the  butt'ry  presently  returned  with  a 
great  piece  of  cheese  and  a  plate  of  those  fried  cakes 
which  we  call  dough-nuts,  and  which  once  were  called 
symbols,  because  they  were  the  survival  of  certain  eccle- 
siastical dainties  known  in  old  Saxon  days  as  Mary's 
cakes,  cross-buns,  and  various  emblematic  forms,  supposed 
to  show  a  devotional  intention,  or  to  protect  the  eater  from 
poison,  or  the  evil  eye.  Miss  Mimy's  mind  had  never 
been  burdened  with  folk-lore  of  this  sort,  and  she  did 
not  even  know  that  simballs  stood  for  symbols,  but  she 
cut  her  dough  into  stars,  and  triangles,  and  five-fingers, 
and  globes,  just  as  her  Saxon  ancestors  had  done  before 
her,  and  very  savory  and  toothsome  they  were.  The 
doctor  ate  heartily,  and  praised  loudly,  and  even  Mar- 
got  deigned  to  take  a  second  and  a  third,  and  to  drink  a 
mug  of  the  sweet  buttermilk,  until  wiping  his  lips  and 
rising  from  the  table,  her  father  said,  — 

"  And  now  I  will  step  up  and  see  Miss  Kezia  again, 
and  then  we  must  go,  for  I  have  other  visits  to  pay. 
Miss  Mimy,  you  don't  mind  my  salting  the  pudding,  do 
you  ?  It  was  quite  spoiled  before  I  touched  it,  you 
know." 

"  Lor'  sakes,  no,  doctor !  It 's  worth  a  dozen  kittles 
of  hasty  pudding  to  hear  you  talk  and  tell,  for  an  hour 
or  so." 

Miss  Kezia  was  really  better,  and  as  the  doctor, 
promising  to  come  again  on  the  morrow,  went  out  to 
his  chaise,  with  Margot  by  his  side,  Jemima,  Keren- 
Happuch,  Dorothea,  and  Theodora  followed  them  to  the 
door  and  stood,  a  long,  lean,  yellow,  but  smiling  group 
upon  the  doorstep. 


CHAPTER  XVIIL 


AN  ACADIAN  PRIVATEER. 

Captain  Simeon  Samson  was  in  evil  case,  and  the 
grounds  of  his  misfortunes  were  more  lofty  than  his 
private  fortunes. 

France  and  England  still  were  quarreling  over  Can- 
ada, and,  especially,  trying  to  decide  the  precise  boun- 
dary lines  of  Acadia,  which  had  indeed  been  settled  by 
the  Treaty  of  Utrecht  in  1713,  but  very  much  after  the 
fashion  in  which  a  big  boy  gives  his  jack-knife  to  his 
his  little  brother,  "  if  he  can  get  it !  " 

Not  that  Mad.  De  Pompadour,  or  whatever  favorite 
governed  France  at  the  moment,  ever  compelled  Louis 
XV.  to  absolutely  repudiate  his  share  of  the  treaty ; 
but  when  the  line  was  to  be  drawn  between  the  ceded 
and  the  retained  territory,  France  claimed  that  Acadia 
only  meant  the  southern  half  of  the  peninsula,  now 
called  Nova  Scotia,  while  England  indignantly  con- 
tended that  it  meant  everything  east  of  a  line  drawn 
from  the  mouth  of  the  Kennebec  to  Quebec,  a  very  im- 
portant difference,  as  the  English  claim  included  the 
southern  bank  of  the  St.  Lawrence  with  the  command- 
ing headland  of  Gaspe  at  its  mouth.  So  there  was  war 
in  the  land,  and  the  Acadians,  the  most  unreasonably 
loyal  people  in  history,  fought  desperately  on  the  side 
of  France,  —  who  coldly  repudiated  and  sold  them,  — 
against  England  who,  partly  for  humanity's  sake,  and 


166     DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


partly  because  she  saw  in  them  valuable  citizens,  and 
wanted  them  to  stay  quietly  and  raise  crops,  and  catch 
fish,  and  make  cider  to  be  sold  to  the  Army  commissa- 
ries, offered  them  all  sorts  of  liberal  terms  and  privileges, 
including  protection  in  their  religion,  very  obnoxious 
to  the  English  nostrils  under  the  Hanoverian  reign. 

But  the  Acadians  were  simple  folk,  and  knew  but 
one  form  of  loyalty;  so  through  a  forty  years'  proba- 
tion, and  a  succession  of  mild  and  generous  governors, 
each  one  of  whom  felt  that  he  was  the  man  to  settle 
the  Acadian  question  and  found  that  he  was  n't,  the 
French  Neutrals,  as  they  came  to  be  called,  had  but  one 
answer  to  give  to  every  form  of  argument  or  entreaty. 
They  knew  no  sovereign  but  the  King  of  France,  and 
although  they  would  take  oath  never  to  fight  either  for 
or  against  him,  they  would  die  before  swearing  uncon- 
ditional allegiance  to  England,  with  the  risk  of  being 
called  upon  to  serve  against  their  own  countrymen. 

This  was  their  simple  confession  of  faith,  and  it  never 
once  varied  in  spirit,  and  not  much  in  word,  through 
forty  years  of  incessant  endeavor  upon  the  part  of  Eng- 
land to  induce  a  recantation. 

One  must  respect  faith  so  staunch,  and  loyalty  so  un- 
swerving, but  yet  what  power  could  consent  to  enter- 
tain some  eight  or  ten  thousand  "  Neutrals  "  with  a 
hereditary  attachment  to  its  mortal  enemy,  within  its 
borders  ?  Sound  policy  dictated  that  the  Acadians 
must  be  assimilated  or  banished ;  the  former  course 
they  resisted  with  a  bland  obstinacy  infinitely  irritating 
to  the  Enghsh  governors,  and  at  last  the  latter  course 
was  resolved  on  by  Pitt  at  home,  and  carried  out  by 
Gov.  Lawrence  upon  the  spot,  through  men  of  the  New 
England  contingent,  which  he  had  summoned  to  his  aid. 


AN  ACADIAN  PRIVATEER.  167 


Unfortunately,  Lieutenant-colonel  John  Winslow  was 
the  man  ordered  to  deport  the  inhabitants  of  the  Basin 
of  Minas,  and  being  a  soldier  he  must  obey  his  orders, 
or  resign  his  position.  Perhaps  he  might  have  done 
his  duty  more  gently  and  shown  himself  more  careful 
of  the  domestic  interests  and  affections  of  those  he 
made  his  prisoners.  Perhaps  —  but  how  few  men  find 
the  wisest  and  best  method  of  performing  a  painful  and 
distracting  duty,  and  how  few  agents  of  an  odious  act 
receive  justice  at  the  hands  of  posterity  ! 

It  is  comfortable  to  know,  however,  that  although  the 
exiles  were  scattered  all  down  the  Atlantic  coast,  from 
Massachusetts  to  Florida,  they  were  allowed  to  retain 
their  money  and  household  goods,  and  so  soon  as  they 
were  steady  upon  their  legs  in  the  new  home,  began 
preparations  to  return  to  the  old  one.  Before  two 
months  were  over,  many  had  done  so,  and  in  course  of 
time,  about  two  thirds  of  the  whole  number  deported 
had,  with  the  serene  persistence  of  their  character, 
found  means  to  again  become  Acadians  of  Acadia,  and 
so  long  as  they  were  unobtrusive  were  not  disturbed. 
Evangeline  and  Gabriel  did  not  find  their  way  back,  to 
be  sure,  and  the  great  poet's  song  of  their  lives  and 
their  death  is  sweeter  and  more  pathetic  than  history. 
But  yet  to  my  mind  there  is  something  far  nobler  in  the 
spectacle  of  a  people  stoutly  choosing  loss,  exile,  and 
great  suffering  in  preference  to  disloyalty,  than  in  the 
poet's  picture  of  childlike  endurance  of  unmerited 
wrong,  whose  origin  cannot  be  guessed.    I  would  write, 

"  Dulce  et  decorum  est,  pro  patria  mori," 

upon  a  monument  set  in  the  fields  of  Grand  Pre, 
rather  than. 


168    DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


"Daily  injustice  is  done,  and  might  is  the  right  of  the 
strongest.'' 

But  Governor  Lawrence  and  his  subordinates  had  not 
been  able  to  capture  all  the  Acadians,  and,  as  we  have 
said,  very  many  of  the  exiles  returned  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible to  their  old  homes,  and  having  been  stirred  beyond 
their  original  passive  opposition  became  active  antago- 
nists,  collecting  at  various  points,  notably  the  Bay  of 
Chaleur  (so  named  by  Jacques  Cartier  because  he  hap- 
pened to  sail  into  it  first  upon  a  hot  summer  day),  Che- 
necto  Bay,  Miramichi,  and  Richibucto,  where  they  occu- 
pied themselves  in  fitting  out  small  privateers,  and  or- 
ganizing, with  the  help  of  the  Indians,  surprise  parties 
to  cut  off  supplies  from  the  English  posts,  to  harry  the 
English  settlements  and  to  give  all  the  information  and 
aid  possible  to  the  French  forces. 

One  of  the  most  formidable  of  these  privateers,  com- 
manded by  the  notorious  Joseph  Brossard,  cruising  in 
the  Bay  of  Fundy,  fell  in,  one  pleasant  morning,  with 
the  brigantine  Lydia  out  of  Plymouth,  laden  with  sup- 
plies of  various  sorts  for  the  fort  at  the  mouth  of  the 
St.  John,  then  called  by  the  French  Fort  Royal,  and 
now  by  the  English,  Fort  Frederick. 

The  Lydia  could  neither  fight  nor  fly,  and  having 
vainly  tried  the  latter  course,  was  compelled,  much  to 
the  chagrin  of  her  young  commander,  to  surrendero 
Brossard  did  not  spare  him  the  humiliation  of  the  de- 
feat, especially  when  he  heard  his  destination. 

"  St.  John  !  St.  John  !  "  exclaimed  he,  in  the  patois 
used  by  the  habitans  as  English.  "  Kennel  of  dogs  ! 
Some  day  we  will  revenge  the  slaughter  your  Monckton 
made  of  us  not  five  years  ago  there.  Some  other 
Circe  will  be  found,  and  some  othei  Ulysses  will  be 
wrecked.'' 


AN  ACADIAN  PRIVATEER. 


169 


"Don't  know  what  all  that  means,"  remarked  Sim- 
eon Samson  gruffly,  as  he  eyed  the  tumultuous  proceed- 
ings of  the  prize  crew  getting  the  Lydia  under  sail  to 
follow  her  captor. 

"  What !  Do  not  you  know  that  these  dogs  of  Eng- 
lishmen captured  one  hundred  and  fifty  French  habi- 
tans,  free  Acadians,  subjects  of  our  most  glorious  king, 
and  put  them  on  board  the  Circe  to  carrr  into  exile  like 
those  others,  and  the  brave  fellows  rose,  and  seized  the 
vessel  and  carried  her  into  what  you  cal^  St.  John,  and 
made  captive  the  crew,  and  later,  when  ^'^our  men  came 
to  recapture  her,  we  burned  her  before  their  eyes,  and 
when  your  Monckton  arrived,  and  after  slaughtering  all 
its  defenders  recaptured  the  fort,  his  s'*hooner  Ulysses 
went  upon  the  rocks  and  was  wrecked.  That,  my  lad, 
is  what  happens  to  all  who  try  to  take  Fort  Royal,  or  to 
aid  and  provision  it*" 

"  Oh,  well,  we  won't  fight  with  our  tongues  since  we 
can't  with  our  guns,"  said  Samson,  rather  contemptu- 
ously.   "  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  me  ?  " 

"  1  will  take  you  and  your  supplies  to  our  brave  men 
in  Baie  Chaleur,"  replied  Brossard,  complacently.  "  The 
supplies  we  will  consume,  and  the  brigantine  must  be 
ransomed  by  its  owners,  and  you  shall  be  prisoner  until 
the  ransom  money  comes,  you  and  the  ship's  papers." 

"  Good  Lord  !  "  groaned  Samson.  It  may  be  months, 
may  be  a  year,  and  maybe  Goodwin  and  Warren  won't 
think  I 'm  worth  a  ransom." 

"  Yes,  yes,  a  brave  young  fellow  like  you  is  worth 
much  money  to  his  owners,"  said  Brossard,  running  his 
eye  over  the  fine  proportions,  resolute  face,  and  daunt- 
less bearing  of  his  captive. 

"  The  brigantine  shaR  be  sent  home  with  a  few  haads* 


170  DR,  leBaron  and  his  daughters. 


and  you  shall  write  to  your  owners  and  your  friends  — 
you  have  a  wife  ?  " 

"  Yes,  what 's  that  to  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  she  will  go  and  plead  to  these  owners ;  she  is 
young,  she  is  beautiful,  she  still  loves  you  "  — 

"There,  that  will  do,  Brossard.  We  Englishmen 
don't  hide  behind  our  wives'  petticoats,  nor  do  we  talk 
about  them  to  every  master  of  a  picaroon  that  we  may 
come  across.  I  will  write  to  my  owners,  Goodwin  and 
Warren,  of  Plymouth  in  the  Colony  of  Massachusetts 
Bay"- 

"  Plymouth  —  Plymouth  !  That  is  where  Jean  Dau- 
din,  and  Pfere  Bergeron,  and  Simon  Martin  are  exiled. 
They  wrote  a  letter  to  my  beau-fils  Alexander  Bros- 
sard." 

"  Yes,  I  heard  there  were  some  French  Neutrals  bil- 
letted  on  Plymouth,"  said  Samson  carelessly,  "  but  I 
never  saw  any  of  them." 

"  Tell  me  then  what  sort  of  hole  is  this  Plymouth, 
and  how  my  brothers  are  treated  by  your  dogs  of  Eng- 
lish." 

"  Come,  man,  I 'm  your  prisoner,  and  all  the  laws  of 
nations  say  that  it's  for  you  to  keep  a  civil  tongue  in 
your  head,  and  treat  me  pretty  much  as  you 'd  fancy 
me  to  treat  you,  if  we  took  turn  about.  Know  what  I 
mean,  commander  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  know  what  you  mean.  You  're  a  bold  fel- 
low and  your  owners  will  pay  the  ransom  quick,  quick  !  " 

"  Well,  then,  don't  forget  it,  and  I'll  spin  you  a  yarn 
about  Plymouth,  and  you  can  tell  me  what 's  the  matter 
with  you  folks  up  here,  and  what  maggot's  got  into 
your  brains  that  you  don't  want  to  be  Englishmen." 

So  accepting  his  situation  as  "  the  fortune  of  war," 


AN  ACADIAN  PRIVATEER.  171 


and  making  the  best  of  it,  Samson  filled  his  pipe, 
quaffed  a  mug  of  his  host's  heady  cider,  and  settled 
himself  for  one  of  those  sailor's  "  yarns  "  of  which, 
truth  to  tell,  he  was  remarkably  fond.  So  agreeable, 
in  truth,  did  he  make  himself,  that  when,  some  four 
days  later,  Brossard  dropped  anchor  in  Baie  Chaleur 
and  prepared  to  set  his  prisoner  ashore,  he  would  have 
embraced  him,  had  not  the  Englishman  held  him  off  by 
main  force,  shaking  hands  instead  and  saying, 

"  No,  no,  mate,  I  don't  kiss  tarry-breeks  nor  whisk- 
ers, though  I  wish  you  just  as  well  as  if  I  did." 

"  Nay,  but  you  have  stolen  my  heart,  Samson  !  You 
have  done  me  wrong,  for  I  never  can  hate  an  English- 
man, again." 

"  No,  but  you  '11  spite  them  just  the  same,"  replied 
Samson,  coolly.  "  A  man  of  your  years  is  n't  made  over 
as  easily  as  all  that." 

"  But  you  are  unkind,  my  Samson,"  expostulated 
Brossard,  "  and  yet,  that  shall  not  hinder  my  making 
the  best  arrangements  possible  for  your  captivity.  My 
friend  Gaspard  Brunei  has  charge  of  the  fort,  and  I 
shall  charge  him  to  give  you  of  the  best  we  find  in  your 
Lydia's  stores,  to  eat  and  to  drink." 

"  I  won't  touch  bit  nor  sup  of  stolen  goods,"  inter- 
rupted Samson  stoutly.  "  If  I 'm  a  prisoner  of  war 
I 'm  entitled  to  rations,  but  let  them  look  out  not  to 
feed  me  on  the  Lyddy's  stores  or  I  '11  brain  the  turn- 
key." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


SAMSON  IN  PETTICOATS. 

"  Four  weeks !  Four  lifetimes  !  Four  more,  and  I 
shall  be  a  madman  and  go  from  here  to  Bedlam  ! " 

"  What  is  that  you  say,  dear  friend !  Still  you  com- 
plain of  your  captivity,  and  you  have  the  pipe,  and  the 
wine,  and  the  books,  and  the  paper  and  pen  and  ink,  — 
and  your  poor  little  friend,  Th^r^se,  so  often  as  she  can 
come  to  chat  with  you  !  " 

The  young  man  thus  addressed  turned  from  the  win- 
dow where  he  had  been  shaking  the  stout  iron  bars  that 
his  namesake  could  have  broken  like  straws,  and  ap- 
proached the  table  where  a  remarkably  pretty  young 
girl  was  laying  out  a  supper  very  luxurious  for  prison 
fare. 

"  I  know  you  have  been  very  good  to  me,  Th^rfese,'* 
said  he  kindly,  if  a  little  coldly,  but  my  case  is  beyond 
cure  of  dainty  food,  or  books,  or  even  pleasant  chat.  I 
want  my  liberty,  Th^rfese.  I  want  to  be  afloat  and 
bound  home.  I  want  to  be  playing  a  man's  part  in  the 
world,  and  not  losing  strength  and  energy  cooped  up 
here  like  a  fowl  to  be  fattened." 

He  clenched  his  right  hand  as  he  spoke  and  shot  it 
out  as  if  to  try  the  muscles,  then  impatiently  nipped  a 
little  superfluous  flesh  upon  the  fore-arm. 

"  Yes,  1 11  be  fit  to  kill  and  eat  in  another  month,  — 
or  I'll  kill  somebody  else  or  myself  or  —  there,  child, 


SAMSON  IN  PETTICOATS,  173 


don't  stand  and  look  as  if  the  devil  had  broke  loose  in 
your  sight.  I  would  never  hurt  you,  little  one,  though 
you  alone  stood  in  the  way  of  my  freedom.'' 

"  No,  mon  capitan,  I  do  not  fear  you,"  said  the  girl, 
simply  ;  "  but  I  am  so  sorry,  I  want  to  help  you." 

"Good  child  —  but  you  cannot,"  said  the  prisoner 
absently,  and  rather  indifferently. 

"  Will  not  you  come  and  eat,  monsieur  ?  Here  is  an 
omelette  aux  fines  herbes  which  I  made  myself,  and  it 
will  spoil." 

"  Four  weeks  —  and  it  may  be  ten  or  twenty,  or  for- 
ever ! " 

The  girl  stood  for  a  moment  watching,  as  the  prisoner 
strode  up  and  down  the  cell,  teeth  and  fists  clenched, 
and  the  haggard  look  she  had  marked  of  late,  dark 
upon  his  face ;  a  face  to  please  that  maiden  queen  who 
"  loved  to  look  upon  a  man  "  although  no  face  for  an 
artist,  with  its  irregular  Saxon  outline  and  strong  fair 
hair  brushed  back  and  gathered  in  a  cue  at  the  nape  of 
the  neck,  its  choleric  complexion,  and  bright,  blue  eyes, 
darkened  by  shaggy  brows,  and  occasionally,  in  time  of 
peace,  reminding  one  of  those  marvelous  eyes  be- 
queathed to  her  descendants  by  Barbara  Standish  ;  a 
generous  mouth  filled  with  strong  white  teeth  and  a 
square  cleft  chin  made  up  this  face  set  upon  a  thick 
short  neck  and  massive  shoulders,  and  as  Th^rfese 
Brunei's  dark  eyes  rested  upon  it  now  in  its  moment  of 
despair  her  heart  melted  within  her  for  love  and  long- 
ing. 

"  Mon  capitan,"  said  she,  softly  gliding  to  his  side  as 
he  stopped  at  the  window  and  seized  its  bars  and  shook 
them  again,  with  a  savage  growl,  "Mon  capitan, 
listen !  " 


174   DR,  lebaron  and  his  daughters. 


"  Nay,  leave  me,  child,  leave  me  before  I  scare  you 
again.  I 'm  in  no  mood  for  gentle  talk  and  —  oh  my 
God,  my  God !  "  And  the  poor  fellow  leaned  his  hot 
head  upon  his  arms  there  in  the  narrow  porthole,  and 
groaned  aloud. 

"  I  will  help  you  to  escape,  mon  capitan,"  whispered 
the  girl,  laying  a  timid  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  What !  No,  but  you  cannot,  dear  child  !  You 
have  told  me  how  your  father  guards  the  keys,  and 
Jacques  will  be  here  in  a  moment  to  call  you  out.'* 

"  No,  but  there  are  other  ways  —  I  have  been  think- 
ing much  —  only  take  courage,  mon  ami,  take  courage, 
and  eat  and  grow  strong,  and  no  longer  waste  yourself 
in  shaking  those  bars  —  you  shall,  you  shall  be  free, 
I  promise  it !  " 

And  you  're  not  just  humoring  me  to  my  food,  like 
a  spoiled  child  ?  " 

"  I  swear  to  you,  mon  capitan,  no !  " 

"  Well,  then,  1 11  eat  and  sleep  and  all  the  rest  of  it. 
But  take  care  you  don't  try  to  cheat  me  for  my  own 
good,  Thdrfese !  " 

"  You  shall  be  free,  mon  capitan,  if  I  die  to  set  you 
free." 

Samson  stood  for  a  moment  reading  the  face  up- 
turned to  his,  but  the  look  of  passionate  devotion  glow- 
ing in  the  dark  eyes  and  trembling  upon  the  lips,  ripe 
and  red  as  a  cherry,  was  not  to  be  mistaken,  and  partly 
in  gratitude,  partly  in  the  frank  fashion  of  his  time  and 
avocation,  the  sailor  stooped  and  pressed  a  kiss  upon 
those  willing  lips. 

And  yet  he  would  have  known  better  than  to  light 
his  pipe  in  a  powder  magazine  !  Then  he  sat  down  and 
ate  the  omelette  aux  fines  herbes  and  the  rest  of  the 


SAMSON  IN  PETTICOATS,  176 


dainty  little  supper  ;  and  Th^rfese,  hardly  speaking  again, 
for  the  tumult  in  her  veins  choked  her,  went  her  way 
and  left  Jacques  the  turnkey  to  bring  away  the  supper 
she  bribed  him  with  smiles  and  dainty  bits  to  allow 
her  to  serve. 

The  days  winged  by  hope  passed  on,  and  Samson, 
caring  for  his  health,  repaired  the  damage  it  had  sus- 
tained and  gained  once  more  the  color  to  his  cheek  and 
light  to  his  eye  whose  loss  had  so  wounded  the  heart  of 
the  gentle  habitane. 

About  a  week  had  passed  when  one  evening  she 
came  again  to  bring  the  prisoner's  food,  an  office  she 
did  not  dare  to  perform  except  when  her  father  was 
away,  for  mother  the  poor  child  had  none,  and,  as  she 
set  it  out,  looked  at  him  with  a  sort  of  wistful  appeal  in 
her  eyes,  red  with  recent  tears.  An  intuition  shot 
through  the  captain's  brain. 

"  Th^rese,  you  have  news  !  "  exclaimed  he,  seizing  her 
arm. 

"Yes,  mon  capitan.    All  is  prepared,  and  to-night, 
even  to-night,  we  will  fly." 
"  We!" 

"  Oh,  monsieur,  you  will  not  leave  me  behind  when  it 
is  all  for  love  of  you  that  I  play  the  traitor  to  my  peoplo 
and  to  my  father  who  trusts  me." 

"  Oh,  my  God !  Is  it  all  to  fail  at  last  ?  "  groaned  the 
man,  dropping  his  hand  and  turning  ashen  white  to  his 
lips. 

"  Fail !    But  no,  all  is  prepared." 

"  And  do  you  think  I  am  such  a  cur,  Th^rfese,  as  ta 
leave  you  to  suffer  in  my  place,  or  such  a  villain  as  to 
take  you  ?  No,  if  my  liberty  hangs  on  either  of  these 
pegs,  it  is  over  —  gone  —  past." 


176  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


"  But  listen,  mon  ami  —  I  love  you  so  dearly  "  — 
"  Chut,  chut,  child  —  hold  thy  tongue  !    No  woman 
named  Th^rese  should  be  —  well,  I  '11  not  chide  thee, 
poor  little  one  ;  but  have  I  never  told  you  that  I  am  a 
married  man  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mon  capitan." 

"  Well,  then,  —  I  gave  up  so  much  once  to  hold  my- 
self to  a  promise,  and  after  all  but  a  half-promise,  that 
it  is  not  likely  I  shall  prove  false  for  a  less  temptation. 
If  you  cannot  help  me  off  without  hurt  to  yourself,  let 
it  go.  Some  day,  before  I  am  quite  worn  out  with 
waiting,  they  will  send  the  ransom,  or  I  will  get  away 
without  help  —  nay,  girl,  don't  cry  —  I  never  could  see 
a  woman  cry  without  a  pang,  like  a  sword-thrust  — 
don't  cry,  little  one  —  I 'd  kiss  away  the  tears,  only  I 
must  not  —  there,  go  away  for  a  while,  Th^rese  — 
Th^rfese  —  to  think  of  a  maid  calling  herself  Thdrese, 
offering  me  love  that  I  must  not  take  —  a  Th^r^se  that 
I  might  take  in  my  arms  and  kiss  —  oh,  child,  you  drive 
me  out  of  my  manhood  —  go,  go  !  " 

"Your  wife  is  called  Th^r^se?"  demanded  the 
French  girl. 

"  My  wife  —  no." 

"  Ah,  then,  you  do  love  some  other  woman  more  than 
you  do  her  !  Some  woman  called  Th^rese,  so  why  not 
me?" 

"Nay,  child,"  — 

"  You  cannot  deny  it,  monsieur." 

"Well,  then,  since  you  will  have  the  whole  story, 
though  I  count  it  something  less  than  maidenly  to  so 
press  a  man,  I  will  tell  you  that  I  did  love,  or  at  the 
least  went  nigh  to  love  one  called  Terese,  but  my  faith 
was  due  to  another,  and  she  claimed  it,  and  I  gave  it  to 


SAMSON  IN  PETTICOATS.  177 


her,  and  a  right  down  good  woman  and  good  wife  she 
is,  and  if  I  gave  up  much  to  hold  faith  with  her  before 
we  were  married,  I  would  do  twice  as  much  now,  and 
I  care  not  to  talk  more  about  it,  so  even  though  you 
find  me  rude  and  boorish  I  will  say  that  it  were  better 
you  left  me  and  came  no  more  to  see  me.  A  man  is 
but  flesh  and  blood,  and  it  is  not  my  nature  to  be  so 
ungracious.'* 

"  See,  then,  mon  capitan,  I  will  be  as  brave  and  as 
self-forgetting  as  you  !  You  shall  be  free  and  leave  me 
behind." 

"  To  take  the  blame,  and  mayhap  the  punishment  of 
my  escape  —  no  !  " 

"I  shall  see — I  shall  see,"  and  Th^r^se  meditated, 
a  forefinger  laid  upon  her  pretty  slighted  lips.  Her 
first  words,  however,  seemed  little  to  the  purpose,  and 
were  very  coldly  spoken. 

I  think  you  mistook  me  but  now,  monsieur.  I  did 
propose  to  escape  with  you  and  go  to  your  town  of 
Plymouth,  but  it  was  to  go  under  your  protection  to  my 
uncle  Bergeron,  who  with  his  daughter  Alix  and  his  son 
Pierre  is  planted  there." 

"What,  your  uncle  and  cousins  are  among  those 
French  Neutrals  late  sent  to  Plymouth !  Why  did  you 
never  tell  me  that  before  ?  " 

"  Why  should  I  ?  "  replied  the  girl  sullenly.  "  What 
care  have  you  for  me  or  my  affairs." 

"  Come,  now,  my  lass,  that 's  bad  seamanship  to  tack 
and  fill  and  yaw  about  in  that  style,  when  you  can  lay 
a  fair  course  on  an  even  keel.  Just  now  you  loved  me 
more  than  I  could  hearken  to,  and  again  you  go  nigh 
to  hate  me,  and  yet  Simeon  Samson  has  never  changed 
from  what  you  first  knew  him.   See  here,  little  Thdrese, 


178  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


you  are  but  a  child  and  know  not  what  you  want.  If 
—  if  —  hang  it,  girl,  a  man  cannot  talk  to  a  maid  as  her 
mother  might,  but  I  have  always  noted  that  when  one 
gets  by  hook  or  by  crook  what  he  ought  n't  to  have,  the 
good  of  it  is  gone  before  he  touches  it,  and  it 's  worse 
to  have  it  than  to  want  it.  Then,  as  for  taking  you  to 
your  uncle  in  Plymouth,  it 's  a  thing  I 've  no  commis- 
sion to  do.  Your  father  trusts  you  to  come  in  here,  and 
he 's  a  good  father  to  you  in  all  ways,  so  far  as  I  have 
heard,  and  for  me  to  steal  you  away,  though  no  further 
harm  come  of  it,  would  be  just  piracy,  kidnapping,  or 
any  such  name  he  chose  to  put  to  it.  And  no  mat- 
ter how  circumspect  I  might  be,  my  wife  would  feel 
she  had  a  right  of  protest  and  she 'd  use  it  too.  You 
would  n't  like  me  to  have  my  ears  pulled,  would  you, 
little  girl?" 

Th^rfese  laughed  in  spite  of  herself,  and  peeped  out 
of  her  apron  at  the  stalwart  fellow,  who  smiled  cheerily 
at  her. 

"  Come,  now,  that  *s  my  lass  !  Laugh  and  be  friends, 
and  forget  all  the  nonsense  you 've  been  trying  to  make 
me  take  for  earnest.  Help  me  off  if  you  can,  and  if 
ever  you  come  to  join  your  kin  in  Plymouth,  Deborah 
Samson  will  show  you  what  thankfulness  means.  She 's 
a  good  woman,  is  Deborah,  and  you  would  be  glad  to 
give  her  such  pleasure  as  she  will  have  when  she  sees 
me  safe  home  again." 

"  One  word,  monsieur,"  and  the  French  girl,  no 
longer  weeping  but  pale  and  cold,  dropped  her  apron, 
and  looked  straight  in  the  face  of  this  masculine  blun- 
derer. "  I  will  help  you  all  I  possibly  can,  and  I  will 
forgive  you  when  I  can  "  — 

"  Forgive  me  for  what !  " 


SAMSON  IN  PETTICOATS. 


179 


"  For  —  the  trouble  you  have  given  me,  monsieur  — 
I  have  cooked  many  dishes  and  done  —  ah,  ciel,  yoa 
man  /  Well,  I  forgive  you  as  one  forgives  petit  Jean, 
the  imbecile,  for  what  he  says  amiss ;  but  I  pray  you 
spare  me  the  embraces  of  Madame  Samson  !  I  have 
not  the  honor  to  know  her,  and  I  have  not  the  time  to 
listen  to  her  perfections.  Let  us  say  no  more  about 
her." 

I  take  no  favors  from  one  who  scorns  at  my  wife," 
said  Samson,  stoutly. 

"  And  still  in  your  heart  you  love  some  Th^rfese  bet- 
ter than  you  do  her !  " 

The  healthy  color  fell  from  beneath  the  bronze  of 
the  sailor's  cheek,  leaving  it  of  a  sickly  yellow,  and  he 
turned  again  to  the  window,  grasping  the  bars  with  his 
hands  and  staring  vacantly  at  the  broad  stretch  of  blue 
water  and  rosy  evening  sky  before  him.  For  a  moment 
there  was  intense  silence  in  the  narrow  cell,  and  then  a 
faint  rustle,  a  hand  timidly  laid  upon  the  tense  arm,  and 
a  whisper :  — 

"  Oh,  pardon,  pardon,  mon  capitan !  I  would  not 
have  said  it,  but  my  heart  is  breaking  with  its  misery ! 

"  You  hurt  me  sorely,  child,  but  you  could  not  have 
meant  it.  You  would  not  wantonly  stab  at  a  poor  fel- 
low who  trusted  you  in  his  lonely  and  helpless  es- 
tate ! " 

"Oh,  miserable  that  I  am  —  oh,  Judas  —  oh,  demon 
—  how  dare  I  ever  say  my  prayers  again,  how  dare  I 
look  at  you,  how  dare  I  even  ask  for  your  forgive^ 
ness !  " 

"  Come,  come,  my  girl,  it  needs  not  all  this  to  gain 
the  pardon  I  never  withheld.  Th^rfese,  you  are  like  a 
craft  in  a  heavy  sea  with  no  steerage  way  upon  her 


180     DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


she  rolls  to  port,  she  rolls  to  lu'ard,  and  at  every  roll 
she  snaps  a  yard,  or  her  standing  rigging,  and  finally 
her  masts,  and  lies  a  wreck,  all  for  want  of  a  rudder." 

"  And  you  will  forgive  me  ?  "  sobbed  the  girl,  quite 
uncomprehensive  of  the  nautical  parable. 

"  As  freely  as  I  pray  God  to  forgive  me  my  own  far 
blacker  sins." 

"  And  you  shall  escape,  you  and  the  man  they  brought 
with  you." 

"  Mark  Pry  or !  Can  you  help  him  o£E  as  well  ?  "  ex- 
claimed Samson  joyfully.  "  Right  glad  shall  I  be  to 
carry  him  safe  home  to  Duxbury,  and  his  old  mother." 

"  Yes,  you  will  need  his  help  in  the  boat,  or  I  should 
not  have  troubled,"  said  Thdrese,  carelessly.  "You 
shall  be  dressed  as  a  woman  in  some  clothes  I  have 
made  for  you  from  those  of  my  dear  dead  mother  — 
heaven  grant  it  be  not  counted  sacrilege,  and  he  shall 
be  a  boatman  from  Miramichi  whose  boat  is  here  for  a 
day  or  two  "  — 

"la  woman ! "  exclaimed  Samson,  irresolutely.  "  But 
if  it  comes  to  fighting  what  can  I  do,  hampered  in  petti- 
coats !  " 

"  You  will  not  fight  —  you  will  run,"  replied  Th^rfese, 
briefly. 

"  Then  give  me  a  following  wind,  for  I  never  learned 
to  hand  or  reef  a  petticoat,  and  first  should  find  myself 
in  stays,  and  then  in  irons." 

"  You  are  very  merry,  monsieur,  but  I  am  too  igno- 
rant to  comprehend." 

"  'T  is  heartless  enough  I  know,  but  when  you  talk  to 
a  sailor-man  in  prison,  of  a  boat,  and  a  messmate,  and 
liberty,  why,  child,  you  make  a  fool  of  him.  But  come, 
now,  tell  me  all  your  plan,  and  how  we  are  to  compass 
it" 


SAMSON  IN  PETTICOATS. 


181 


"There  is  a  man  here  from  Miramichi,  monsieur, 
called  Victor  Beaubien  !  " 

"  Nay,  not  so  solemn,  little  one !  Show  me  that 
pretty  smile  and  those  white  teeth  as  you  used  !  " 

"  Think  of  Madame  Debdrah,  monsieur,"  muttered 
the  girl,  and  the  queer  French  pronunciation  of  the 
familiar  name  so  tickled  the  sailor's  simple  humor  that 
it  was  only  by  a  savage  nip  upon  his  nether  lip  that  he 
restrained  a  burst  of  laughter  sure  to  provoke  his  com^ 
panion,  who,  taking  his  silence  for  wounded  feeling, 
went  on  more  placably. 

"  Victor  and  my  father  are  concerned  in  affairs,  oh, 
such  secret  affairs,  mon  capitan,  matters  of  the  war  and 
of  the  king,  —  what  they  are  I  do  not  know,  but  they 
must  go  to-morrow  to  Bartibogue  to  meet  aome  deputies, 
and  they  will  be  gone  all  night !  "  — 
And  Victor  leaves  his  boat  here  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mon  capitan,  —  and  I  was  so  glad." 

"And  will  be  glad  again  when  you  think  of  it,  in 
days  to  come,  Th^rfese.  How  large  a  boat  is  it  ?  Can 
two  men  handle  it  ?  " 

"  Three  brought  it  here  to  Caraquette,  from  Mirami- 
chi, through  Miscou  Gully  and  shoals,  and  surely  two 
Englishers  are  better  than  three  poor  Frenchmen." 

"  Of  course  they  are,"  answered  Samson,  simply. 
"  And  what  course  should  we  lay  to  escape  recap- 
ture?" 

"  The  talk  to-day  was  of  a  fleet  of  English  war  ves- 
sels off  the  mouth  of  Baie  Chaleur,  that 's  our  sea,  you 
know  "  — 

And  the  girl,  with  a  broad  sweep  of  the  hand,  indi* 
cated  the  darkening  waters  without. 

"  And  these  vessels  were  to  the  eastward  ?  " 


182    DR.  LeBARON  and  his  DAUGHTERS. 


"Yes,  that  way.  They  may  be  going  up  the  St. 
Lawrence,  our  men  say,  but  there  are  many  of  them, 
and  you  will  know  how  to  run  after  them.  This  man. 
Pry  or,  you  call  him,  eh  ?  " 

"  Well,  Pryor  is  the  way  to  pronounce  it." 

"  What  matter  !  He  will  be  Victor  Beaubien  with  a 
hat  and  coat  such  as  our  men  wear,  and  you  in  the 
clothes  I  have  fashioned,  and  a  so-large  hood  on  your 
head,  you  will  be  his  sister  or  his  mother  "  — 

And  the  poor  little  broken-hearted  French  girl, 
laughed  merrily  in  the  blessed  elasticity  of  her  age  and 
nationality. 

"  Th^rese,  Th^r^se,  where  are  you,  ma  soBur  ?  Papa 
wants  you,  Th^rfese  !  " 

"  It  is  my  little  brother,  monsieur !  "  exclaimed  the 
girl,  hurriedly,  "  I  will  tell  you  the  rest  to-morrow,  when 
they  are  gone." 


CHAPTER  XX. 


PHILIP  DE  MONTARNAUD. 

The  selectmen  of  Plymouth  were  assembled  in  coun- 
cil at  the  Town  House,  on  Town  Square.  In  those  days 
when  Framing  Green  boasted  no  worthier  edifice  than 
the  Town  Pound,  it  was  the  Court  House  as  well,  and 
from  it  offenders  were  summarily  dispatched  to  the 
Province  prison,  on  the  corner  of  Market  and  Sum- 
mer Streets,  where  also  were  to  be  found  the  stocks  and 
pillory  maintained  as  a  terror  to  evil  doers  but  seldom 
used. 

The  fathers  of  Plymouth  having  transacted  a  little 
formal  business,  had  somewhat  relaxed  the  official  sever- 
ity of  the  meeting,  and  were  discussing  the  aspect  of 
the  war  and  the  prospects  of  a  real  as  well  as  nominal 
peace. 

"  Lieutenant  de  Montarnaud  has  letters  touching  his 
exchange,  from  Paris,''  said  Doctor  LeBaron  ;  "  and  he 
tells  me  that  there  is  the  speediest  prospect  of  an  ami- 
cable arrangement  between  the  Home  Government  and 
France.  He  is  sanguine  of  an  almost  immediate 
peace.'' 

"  That  young  man  seems  quite  one  of  your  family, 
Doctor,"  remarked  Deacon  Foster,  sourly. 

"  Yes,  when  the  town  requested  me  to  take  charge  of 
him,  I  understood  that  I  was  to  regard  him  as  an  inmate, 
and  not  as  a  prisoner." 


184    DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


^'  Most  surely,  Doctor,"  interposed  Warren,  "  we  are 
bound  to  retain  him  and  the  other  officers,  one  of  whom 
is  inmate  of  my  own  family,  and  one  of  Mr.  Rowland's, 
as  hostages  for  the  safe  return  of  Captain  Samson  and 
our  other  townsmen,  but  there  is  no  need  of  any  harsh 
captivity  — 

The  door  suddenly  opened,  and  a  handsome  young 
woman  entered,  not  with  the  timid  hesitation  usual  with 
one  of  her  sex  intruding  upon  a  conclave  of  her  natural 
sovereigns,  but  with  a  certain  steady  determination  of 
mien,  the  appropriate  air  of  the  victor* 

"  Mistress  Samson !  "  exclaimed  Deacon  Puller,  the 
oldest  man  in  the  room,  and  in  his  own  idea  invested 
with  some  sort  of  ecclesiastical  authority.  "  What  do 
you  want  here,  madam  ?    This  is  no  place  for  you.*' 

"  I  ask  your  pardon,  Deacon  Fuller,  but  I  am  here  to 
speak  to  you  and  to  these  gentlemen  who  have  the  care  of 
the  town,  and  of  us  women  as  well  as  the  men.*' 
.  "  Certainly,  certainly,  Mrs.  Samson,*'  said  Doctor  Le- 
Baron,  with  a  punctilious  politeness,  that  seemed  to 
rebuke  the  rudeness  of  the  first  speaker,  while  Warren 
placed  a  chair,  saying  gently  — 

"  Sit  down,  madam,  sit  down !  " 

"  I  am  beholden  to  you,  sir,"  replied  Deborah,  resting 
her  hand  on  the  back  of  the  chair.  "  But  I  am  not  here 
for  my  own  ease  or  pleasure,  and  I  only  ask  leave  to 
speak,  and  have  a  fair  hearing." 

That  we  assure  you,  Mrs.  Samson ;  am  I  not  right, 
brethren  ? "  And  as  the  doctor  looked  around  the 
board,  he  was  met  with  an  assenting  murmur. 

"Then,  what  I  have  to  say  is  this.  My  husband, 
Simeon  Samson,  master  of  your  vessel,  Mr.  Warren,  is 
your  townsman,  is  he  not  ?  " 


PHILIP  DE  MONTARNAUD. 


185 


"  Certainly,  and  a  very  respectable  and  worthy  one, 
as  well  as  a  most  admirable  seaman,"  replied  Warren, 
with  his  customary  gentle  courtesy. 

"  You  say  what  everybody  who  knows  him  must  say," 
replied  Deborah,  with  a  flush  of  pride  upon  her  dark 
face. 

"  Well,  sirs,  this  man  is  locked  fast  in  a  miserable 
prison  cell,  where  he  is  shut  away  from  the  life  he  loves 
so  well,  air,  exercise,  work  or  play,  where  he  sees  none 
but  the  faces  of  enemies,  and  hears  naught  but  what 
they  choose  to  tell  him.  You  know  this,  Mr.  Warren, 
as  well  as  I,  for  I  showed  you  the  letter  he  writ  from 
that  prison." 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Samson,"  replied  Warren,  uneasily,  "  and 
Mr.  Goodwin  and  I  began  at  once  to  collect  his  ransom, 
but  times  are  hard,  and  "  — 

"  Not  his  ransom,  but  the  ransom  of  the  Lyddy,"  in- 
terrupted Deborah.  "  If  the  Frenchman  had  kept  the 
brigantine  and  sent  home  the  man,  I  warrant  times 
would  have  been  found  easier." 

"  Nay,  madam,  you  are  unjust "  —  began  Warren. 

"  And  if  to  upbraid  Master  Warren  is  all  your  object, 
mistress,"  interposed  Deacon  Fuller,  sourly,  "  you  could 
find  him  in  private,  without  coming  here  to  interrupt  the 
public  business." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  upbraid  Master  Warren,"  replied 
Deborah,  coolly.  "  He  is  a  good  man  and  a  civil  one, 
and  if  he  looks  at  his  own  side  of  a  bargain,  before  he 
does  that  of  the  other  man,  I  know  not  that  he  differs 
from  you.  Deacon,  or  from  most  men." 

A  suppressed  smile  stole  over  the  faces  of  the  select- 
men, for  Deacon  Fuller  had  the  reputation  of  being  a 
little  "  near  "  in  business  matters. 


186    DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


"  No,  I  came  here  to  see  the  selectmen  of  Plymouth, 
and  to  ask  them  if  they  think  it  fair  or  honest,  or  even 
decent,  while  their  own  townsman,  taken  prisoner  in 
the  service  of  one  of  their  own  number,  lies  close  in 
prison,  to  leave  three  of  his  enemies  at  large,  although 
they  are  called  prisoners.'* 

The  selectmen  stirred  in  their  chairs,  and  glanced  at 
each  other. 

It  was  quite  true  that  the  three  French  officers  bil- 
letted  upon  Plymouth  by  the  Provincial  Government 
had  been  treated  rather  as  honored  guests  than  as 
prisoners,  and  made  welcome  to  every  house  in  the  vil- 
lage, especially  by  Doctor  LeBaron,  and  Parson  Robbins, 
whose  liberal  education  included  a  thorough  knowledge 
of  the  French  language  and  literature.  That  worthy 
man  had  indeed  suffered  many  qualms  of  conscience 
as  to  the  lawfulness  of  so  much  mundane  enjoyment  as 
he  found  in  those  evenings  when  the  three  officers,  Le- 
Baron, and  himself,  closeted  in  the  doctor's  office,  with 
a  pipe  and  modest  glass  of  punch  before  each  comrade, 
chattered  in  French,  of  men  and  manners  beyond  the  sea, 
and  of  the  great  world  outside  of  his  own  sphere.  Some 
solace  to  be  sure,  was  derived  from  the  fact  that  two  of 
these  men  belonged  to  old  Huguenot  families,  and  that 
the  third.  Lieutenant  Philip  de  Montarnaud,  listened 
so  courteously  and  intently  to  his  own  expositions  of  the 
errors  of  Rome,  that  the  ardent  Calvinist  had  good 
hope  of  soon  converting  him  from  the  errors  of  his  ways. 
But  when  at  times  he  expressed  this  hope  to  Dr.  Le- 
Baron, that  gentleman  generally  replied  by  offering  him 
his  snuff-box. 

"  These  officers  are  prisoners  of  war,  are  they  not  ? 
inquired  Deborah,  at  last,  since  no  one  broke  the  uneasy 
eilence. 


PHILIP  DE  MONTARNAUD. 


187 


"  Oh,  yes,  they  are  prisoners  of  war,"  replied  Warren, 
at  whom  she  looked. 

"  Then  I  demand,  as  Simeon  Samson's  wife,  that  they 
should  be  treated  as  he  is  treated.  I  demand  that  they 
shall  be  locked  up  in  the  Province  prison,  and  fed  on 
prison  fare,  and  kept  in  close  ward,  until  Captain  Sam- 
son is  set  at  liberty." 

"  But  they  are  on  parole,  madam,"  interposed  Doctor 
LeBaron.  "  They  have  passed  their  word  of  honor  not 
to  attempt  an  escape,  nor  "  — 

"  An  eye  for  an  eye,  and  a  tooth  for  a  tooth,"  inter- 
rupted Deborah,  contemptuously.  "  My  man's  word  of 
honor  is  better  than  any  Frenchman's,  but  it  has  not  been 
enough  to  give  him  the  same  liberty  these  men  have  had 
thrust  upon  them.  It  is  no  more  than  fair  that  since 
his  parole  has  not  been  granted,  these  others  should  not 
be  allowed  theirs." 

"  She 's  right,"  growled  Deacon  Foster,  who  hated 
the  debonair  young  Frenchmen,  as  did  his  brother, 
Deacon  Fuller. 

"  The  usage  of  war  is  on  her  side,"  murmured  War- 
ren, who  had  been  studying  mihtary  tactics,  perhaps 
with  prevision  of  his  military  career  in  the  future. 

"  But  my  good  woman,"  exclaimed  LeBaron,  rising 
to  his  feet  with  an  angry  flush  upon  his  sallow  cheek, 
"  it  will  not  help  your  husband  at  all,  to  make  these 
gentlemen  uncomfortable  1  It  is  no  more  than  woman- 
ish spite  to  demand  it." 

"  I  do  not  suppose  Simeon  Samson's  comfort  is  very 
dear  to  you.  Doctor,"  replied  Deborah,  meaningly.  "  But 
it  is  to  me,  and  perhaps  these  gentlemen  of  English 
blood  can  see  the  matter  more  clearly  than  you." 

"  Sit  down,  man,  sit  down,"  muttered  Consider  How 


188    DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


land,  near  whose  chair  the  doctor  had  paused.  There 's 
neither  profit  nor  honor  to  be  gained  in  fighting  with  a 
woman  ;  and  she 's  in  the  right ;  we  shall  have  to  lock 
up  the  Johnny  Crapauds  till  Samson  is  set  free,  and 
I 'm  sorry  too,  for  that  little  fellow  at  my  house  is  as 
merry  as  a  grig  and  plays  like  a  boy  with  my  little 
Hannah." 

As  my  Margot  with  Montarnaud,"  said  the  doctor, 
in  the  same  tone,  but  the  strident  voice  of  Deacon 
Foster,  who  acted  as  chairman,  drowned  his  words. 

"  It  seems  to  me,  brethren,  that  Deborah  Samson's 
claim  is  a  just  and  honest  one.  If  the  Frenchmen  of 
Baie  Chaleur  had  held  our  man  at  his  word,  it  would 
be  fair  that  we  should  give  their  men  the  like  privi- 
lege ;  but  they  have  not,  and  for  us  to  be  less  strict 
than  they,  would  seem  to  belittle  our  own  standing, 
which,  I  take  it,  Plymouth  men  are  not  ready  as  yet  to 
do.'' 

"  Our  fathers  on  Burying  Hill  would  come  down  to 
flout  us,  if  we  did,"  said  Howland,  and  the  two  or 
three  other  men  present  claiming  Pilgrim  blood  straight- 
ened themselves  upon  their  chairs. 

"  I  agree  with  Brother  Foster,"  said  Fuller,  briefly ; 
and  the  matter  being  put  to  vote  was  decided  within 
the  next  five  minutes  in  favor  of  Deborah. 

Leaving  the  council  chamber  hot  and  angry,  Doctor 
LeBaron  turned  up  Summer  Street,  cast  a  withering 
glance  at  the  ruinous  old  prison  building,  and  walked  at 
the  stretch  of  his  long  legs  up  the  hill  beyond,  toward 
the  Carver  woods. 

Suddenly  a  smile  broke  through  the  wrath  upon  his 
face,  for  the  sight  of  the  prison  recalled  in  spite  of  him- 
self a  story  at  which  he  had  laughed  heartily  only  a 
few  months  earlier. 


PHILIP  BE  MONTARNAUD,  189 


It  concerned  a  notorious  petty  criminal,  whose  name 
need  not  be  mentioned,  but  who  had  been  time  and 
again  convicted  in  the  provincial  court  of  one  offense 
and  another,  and  with  much  solemnity  sentenced  to  va- 
rious terms  of  imprisonment  in  this  same  jail ;  but  so 
ruinous  was  its  condition  and  so  enterprising  the  crim- 
inal that  he  had  never  remained  more  than  a  week  or 
so  before  making  his  escape.  Convicted  and  sentenced 
about  a  year  before  this  time,  he  had  with  impudent 
gravity  protested  to  the  court  against  the  sentence,  stat- 
ing that  the  jail  was  so  open  to  the  weather  and  gen- 
erally uncomfortable  that  he  could  not  stay  in  it,  and, 
unless  it  was  extensively  repaired,  certainly  should  not 
do  so.  The  outraged  magistrates  at  once  clapped  an- 
other three  months  upon  the  sentence,  but  the  same  day 
ordered  Jonathan  Dix,  carpenter,  to  carry  lumber  and 
other  material  forthwith  to  the  jail,  and  to  see  that  it 
was  made  secure.  Whether  they  specified  comfortable 
as  well,  I  do  not  know,  but  in  those  days  the  theory 
was  prevalent  that  criminals  were  imprisoned  by  way 
of  punishment,  and  were  not  to  be  treated  better  than 
virtuous  paupers. 

The  lumber  arrived,  and  the  prisoner,  inspecting  it 
from  the  window  of  his  cell,  shook  his  head  at  its  qual- 
ity ;  and  as  a  knot  of  those  idlers  inevitable  in  the  best 
regulated  communities  gathered  in  the  gloaming  under 
his  window,  he  began,  in  a  mellow  and  jolly  voice,  to 
chant  the  story  of  his  exploits,  closing  every  verse  with 
the  refrain  :  — 

**  Mr.  Dix  has  broug-ht  some  sticks 
To  mend  my  prison  door, 
But  I  don't  doubt  that  I  shall  get  out 
As  I  have  done  before,  O ! 
As  I  have  done  before  I 


190    DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS, 


And  in  point  of  fact,  when  Mr.  Dix  arrived  the  next 
morning  to  begin  his  work,  there  was  no  prisoner  to  se- 
cure, and  the  carpenter's  coat  and  tools,  stored  in  a 
snug  nook  among  the  lumber,  had  vanished  as  well. 

The  doctor's  smile,  at  this  reminiscence,  had  not  van- 
ished before  he  met  a  merry  little  party  coming  up  the 
hill  from  the  spring,  to  which  the  Pilgrims  had  trodden 
a  path  from  their  fort  on  Burying  Hill  a  century  or 
more  before.  This  party  consisted  first  of  an  aged 
donkey ;  then  of  a  very  good-looking  young  man,  al- 
most a  boy,  indeed,  for  he  had  yet  to  see  his  twenty- 
first  birthday,  although  military  training,  Provencal 
blood,  and  Gallic  race  combined  to  make  him  appear 
older  than  an  Anglo-Saxon  of  the  same  years.  Walk- 
ing beside  the  donkey,  with  a  hand  upon  his  bridle,  this 
young  man  advanced  in  a  crablike  fashion,  his  head 
being  twisted  completely  around  in  anxious  yet  merry 
supervision  of  a  very  rickety  little  cart,  much  cobbled 
and  tackled  with  rope,  and  crowded  to  its  utmost  ca- 
pacity with  a  chattering,  laughing,  restless,  overflowing 
company  of  little  lasses,  a  small  boy  or  two,  and  an  in- 
definite number  of  baskets  heaped  with  clusters  of  ripe 
grapes,  purple,  red,  and  white,  —  those  delicious  wild 
grapes  for  which  Plymouth  was  once  almost  as  famed 
as  Eshcol. 

"  There,  Margot !  "  cried  he,  as  the  cart  at  last  halted 
upon  level  ground,  "  I  told  you  that  Neddie  and  I  could 
get  you  up  the  hill !  " 

A  chorus  of  merry  voices  replied,  but  above  them 
rose  Margot's,  in  its  penetrating  sweetness :  — 

"  Papa !  O  papa !  See  our  grapes  !  We  have  so 
many,  so  many  !  '* 

"  Good  evening,  sir,"  exclaimed  the  young  man,  put- 


PHILIP  DE  MONTARNAUD, 


191 


ting  his  hand  to  his  hat.  "  The  young  ladies  and  I 
have  indeed  been  fortunate." 

"Ah  —  yes,  I  see.  Fortunate  —  oh,  felix,  infeh'x!" 
muttered  the  doctor,  staring  absently  at  the  baskets 
of  grapes,  and  then  at  the  little  girls,  suddenly  as  quiet 
as  mice  in  presence  of  the  cat ;  for  most  of  them  had 
been  bred  in  wholesome  awe  of  their  elders  and  not  one 
enjoyed  the  freedom  permitted  to  the  doctor's  mother- 
less girls. 

"  Betsey  Foster,  and  Molly  and  Nancy  Mayhew,  Becca 
Fuller,  Hannah  Howland,  Pris  and  Margot,  —  why,  you 
have  a  cadet  from  all  our  houses,  Lieutenant,  not  to 
mention  the  boys." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Montarnaud,  gayly,  "  Margot  asked 
who  she  would,  and  even  if  her  taste  is  for  her  sister's 
friends  rather  than  those  of  her  own  age,  it  is  her  af- 
fair ;  she  is  hostess." 

"  Well ;  —  nay,  then  —  here,  Pris,  you  *re  the  oldest, 
take  the  reins,  and  drive  home  with  these  children.  I 
have  a  word  for  Monsieur  de  Montarnaud,  and  will  ask 
him  to  walk  as  far  as  widow  Ring's  cottage ;  she  has 
sent  for  me." 

"  But  certainly,  monsieur,"  said  the  lieutenant  readily, 
"  if  Mademoiselle  Marguerite  will  excuse  me." 

"  She  must,"  replied  her  father  briefly  ;  and  without 
pausing  to  notice  the  mutinous  grimace  Margot  be- 
stowed upon  her  playmate  as  he  made  her  a  farewell 
bow,  he  put  his  hand  within  the  young:  man's  arm  and 
led  him  away. 

"  You  shall  have  one  good  walk  before  you  lose  the 
use  of  your  legs,"  said  he,  with  rather  a  futile  attempt  at 
pleasantry. 

"  Lose  the  use  of  my  legs  ?  "  echoed  the  lieutenant, 


192     DK  LeBARON  and  his  DAUGHTERS. 


glancing  down  at  those  shapely  members,  clad  in  doe- 
skin breeches  and  scarlet  hose,  a  costume  the  young 
man  had  fancied  as  combining  the  trophies  of  the  chase 
with  indomitable  gayety,  and  therefore  suited  to  his 
captivity  in  the  savage  wilds  of  America. 

My  poor  boy,  how  shall  I  tell  you  my  news !  "  said 
the  doctor,  with  a  sigh. 


CHAPTER  XXL 


NAUGHTY  LITTLE  DEBORAH. 

A  FEW  days  later,  Dr.  LeBaron,  summoned  to  Eleazer 
Rogers'  house  near  Ring's  Lane,  took  Burying  Hill  in  his 
way,  and  paused,  as  was  his  wont,  near  Governor  Brad- 
ford's grave  to  consider  the  view,  and  to  wonder  if  any 
one  of  the  vessels  creeping  up  from  the  underworld, 
and  swelling  their  white  sails  bravely  to  the  easterly 
wind  as  they  swept  past  Elisha's  Point  and  Far  Mano- 
met,  brought  news  of  Teresa,  the  cherished  darling, 
whom,  at  her  own  earnest  desire,  he  had  spared  to  her 
widowed  brother  Lazarus  in  his  tropical  home. 

"  Our  young  parson  would  say 't  was  sinful  to  yearn 
so  for  a  face  of  flesh,"  muttered  he  —  "  but  still  I  do, 
and  must !  I  wish  I  knew  if  that  fellow  trifled  with 
her  affections ;  but  no  man  could  ever  know  it  from  her 
—  my  lily  of  France !  " 

"  Good  morning,  Doctor  LeBaron,"  said  a  voice  at 
his  elbow,  and  as  he  turned  sharply  it  was  to  meet  per- 
haps the  least  welcome  of  any  woman's  face  in  Plymouth. 
His  own  grew  very  cold,  but  raising  his  tliree-cornered 
hat  with  magnificent  courtesy,  he  returned  the  saluta- 
tion :  — 

"  Good  morning,  Mrs.  Simeon  Samson,"  and  would 
have  passed,  but  was  detained  by  a  touch  upon  his 
sleeve. 

"  Shall  you  see  your  French  friends  to-day,  sir  ?  " 


194    DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


"  There  are  few  days  when  I  fail  to  spend  some  time 
in  the  prison  to  which  you  have  consigned  them.' 

"  Well,  you  may  do  them  a  good  office  from  me  to- 
day. Captain  Samson  has  escaped,  and  will  soon  be 
here.    Then  they  may  be  released  as  before." 

"  And  where  got  you  this  news,  madam  ? 

"  That 's  no  matter  to  you  —  and  still  —  well,  smile 
if  you  like,  it  will  never  harm  me ;  I  '11  tell  you  where  I 
got  this  news.  —  God  gave  it  to  me." 

"  It  is  a  large  claim  you  make.  May  I  ask  you  to 
explain  ?  " 

"  Last  night,  sleeping  or  waking,  I  know  not  which, 
.1  had  a  vision.  I  saw  my  husband,  Simeon  Samson, 
dressed  in  woman's  clothes  and  standing  on  a  sea 
beach ;  the  bows  of  a  boat  were  to  be  seen  through 
thick  mist,  and  a  man  stood  by  with  an  oar  in  hand,  to 
push  off ;  there  was  a  woman  too  "  — 

"  Ah,  a  woman  too !  I  think  the  vision  is  founded 
upon  experience,  is  it  not,  madam  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  knew  you 'd  jeer  and  flout  me,  in  your  hate- 
ful French  way,"  replied  Deborah,  bringing  back  her 
gaze  from  the  quivering  horizon  line,  and  fixing  it  scorn- 
fully upon  the  doctor's  face ;  "  and  I  never  would  have 
told  you,  but  that  to  know  he  is  free  so  filled  me  with 
charity  toward  all  men  that  I  wanted  to  send  some 
comfort  to  those  lads  yonder,  whom  I  pity  "  — 

"  Even  as  the  woman  of  your  dream  pitied  your  gay 
goodman,"  suggested  LeBaron.  "  Well,  I  will  tell  my 
friends  your  dream ;  even  a  laugh  may  do  them  some 
good." 

"And  I  will  add  a  word  of  counsel  for  your  own 
benefit,  Doctor.  When  you  show  yourself  so  bitter  to- 
ward Simeon  Samson  and  his  wife,  folk  may  wonder  if 


NAUGHTY  LITTLE  DEBORAH.  195 


one  near  to  you  was  slighted  for  that  wife's  sake.  It 
is  not  shrewd  of  you  to  set  the  women's  tongues  wag- 
ging, Doctor." 

"You  are  right,  dame.  Saint  James  says  that  the 
very  fires  of  hell  are  kindled  of  them." 

And,  delivering  this  Parthian  arrow,  the  doctor  pur- 
sued his  way  so  rapidly  that  he  only  half  heard  the 
retort. 

"  And  he  that  hateth  his  brother  shall  taste  the  fervor 
of  those  fires." 

Perhaps  this  encounter  stirred  the  doctor's  spirit 
more  than  he  would  have  chosen  to  say  ;  perhaps  it  re- 
vived grief  and  disappointment,  too  recent  to  sleep  very 
soundly  ;  however  it  was,  before  he  sat  down  to  dinner 
he  ordered  Quasho  to  see  that  the  chaise  was  properly 
cleaned  and  harnessed,  and  as  the  family  rose  from 
table  he  said :  — 

"  Elizabeth,  has  Margaret  been  a  good  child  this 
morning?  Sewed  her  sampler,  and  done  her  task  to 
your  mind  ?  " 

"  Yes,  father,  she  has  been  a  very  good  girl,"  replied 
the  elder  sister,  with  a  pretty  motherly  smile  upon  the 
little  one. 

"  Then  get  on  your  hood,  or  bonnet,  or  whatever,  and 
we  wiQ  go  to  see  the  little  girls  I  told  you  of,  Margot." 

"  Good,  good  !  But  may  n't  Philip  go  too  ?  "  de- 
manded the  child,  her  great  dark  eyes  full  of  tears. 

"  Poor  fellow  !  It  is  not  his  fault  if  he  cannot,"  re- 
plied her  father.  "  And  who  knows  but  in  a  few  days 
he  can  ?  We  shall  see  if  we  have  a  prophetess  among 
us." 

And,  Margot,  not  pausing  for  an  answer  to  the  enig- 
ma, ran  away  to  put  on  her  cape,  and  let  Elizabeth 


196     DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


button  on  some  warm  sleeves  ;  for  the  day  was  cold,  and 
nobody  in  those  days  ever  saw  a  girl's  dress  made  with 
high  neck  or  long  sleeves.  A  quaint  little  skull-cap 
hood,  tied  under  the  chin  with  cherry  ribbons,  completed 
the  costume,  and  Margot  settled  herself  in  infinite  con- 
tent at  her  father's  side,  as,  giving  the  rein  to  Black 
Bess,  he  drove  rapidly  through  the  town,  past  the  field 
where  twenty  years  before  Quasho  had  pulled  turnips 
and  propounded  conundrums  to  his  master,  and  out 
upon  the  Kingston  road.  Again  as  on  that  day  the 
doctor  drew  rein  upon  the  bridge,  just  before  entering 
the  town,  and  looked  long  and  silently  upon  the  placid 
river,  stealing  through  its  ripe  marsh-grasses  to  the  sea, 
—  looked  at  Captain's  Hill,  and  the  Gurnet,  and  all  the 
wealth  of  waters  gleaming  cold  and  bright  in  the  au- 
tumn sunshine. 

"  A  goodly  sight,  —  a  fair  scene,"  said  he  aloud,  and 
turned  to  smile  upon  the  child,  who  coldly  replied :  — 

"  I  had  rather  see  Philip." 

"  What,  don't  you  care  for  nature,  Margot  ?  "  de- 
manded her  father,  driving  on. 

"  No,  papa,  I  like  people  better." 

"You  should  have  been  born  two  or  three  genera- 
tions earlier  in  the  LeBaron  annals,"  said  the  doctor, 
quizzically.  "  Well,  jump  out  and  gather  me  those 
cardinal  flowers,  mademoiselle.  I  care  for  them,  if  you 
do  not." 

An  hour  later,  Black  Bess  halted  before  the  same 
ruinous  old  farmhouse  where  widow  Crewe  had  lived, 
and  her  daughter  died,  that  Ansel  Ring  and  Molly 
Peach  might  try  the  force  of  a  mother's  curse. 

A  little  more  ruinous  now,  in  spite  of  some  clouting 
and  patching,  and  set  in  fields  a  little  more  barren  and 


NAUGHTY  LITTLE  DEBORAH.  197 


neglected ;  for  Jonathan  Samson,  like  his  far-away  cousin 
Simeon,  was  a  sailor,  and  not  a  farmer,  and  when,  in  the 
division  of  his  father's  property,  his  portion  was  eaten 
up  in  unlawful  charges,  and  he  was  forced  to  accept 
this  desolate  little  farm  as  all  his  inheritance,  he  left 
his  wife  and  children  upon  it,  and  fled  madly  away 
from  the  face  of  men  to  the  solitudes  of  the  sea.  No 
news  ever  came  again  to  that  lonely  and  impoverished 
home,  and  Deborah  his  wife,  strong  in  the  spirit  of 
William  Bradford  her  great  grandsire,  struggled  on,  as 
only  such  a  woman  can  struggle,  until  of  a  sudden  the 
overwrought  body  gave  way,  and  fell  upon  the  wretched 
pallet  whence  it  was  never  more  to  rise. 

She  sent  for  no  doctor,  having  no  money  to  pay  one ; 
but  Lazarus  LeBaron  heard  of  her  situation,  and  came 
to  see  her. 

"  Why  did  not  you  let  me  know  of  your  condition 
before  it  came  to  this  ?  "  demanded  he  almost  sternly, 
as  he  laid  down  the  all  but  pulseless  wrist. 

"  I  could  not  pay  you.  Doctor,  and  I  did  not  want  to 
come  upon  the  town.  'T  will  be  bad  enough  for  the 
children,  and  they  with  William  Bradford  and  Myles 
Standish  for  their  forbears  !  " 

And  the  poor  soul  fell  to  crying  so  piteously  that  the 
doctor  feared  to  see  her  die  before  his  eyes. 

"  They  shall  not  come  upon  the  town,"  said  he,  rais- 
ing her  head,  and  forcing  a  cordial  between  the  pale 
lips.  "  I  will  see  that  they  come  to  no  hardship.  Nay, 
then,  my  friend,  have  you  forgotten  who  is  the  orphan's 
friend?" 

"  Oh,  Doctor,  Faith  can't  stand  up  when  Hope  is  n't 
there  to  lean  upon,"  murmured  the  sick  woman,  bit- 
terly. 


198    DK  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


"  But  Love  can  stand  alone,  and  is  the  best  of  the 
three.  Try  to  lean  on  that/'  replied  LeBaron,  in  a 
gentler  voice  than  he  often  used. 

This  was  a  fortnight  ago,  and  now,  as  he  tied  Black 
Bess  to  the  fence,  the  doctor  looked  curiously  at  the 
upper  windows. 

"  Not  yet,"  said  he  aloud.  "  Margot,  you  shall  come 
in  and  warm  yourself,  and  see  the  little  girl — 

But  a  wild  shriek,  or  succession  of  shrieks,  from  the 
house  cut  short  his  words,  and  the  door  flying  violently 
open,  a  wild  elf  of  a  child  sprang  out,  and,  hastily  gath- 
ering both  hands  full  of  sand  and  pebbles  from  the 
path,  turned  to  discharge  them  with  admirable  aim  in 
the  face  of  a  young  woman  who  pursued  her  with  a 
bunch  of  rods. 

"  Oh  !  Oh !  Oh !  "  screamed  the  latter,  dropping  the 
rod,  and  clapping  both  hands  to  her  eyes.  "  Oh,  you 
little  imp  of  Satan  — 

"  What 's  all  this  ?  "  interposed  the  doctor,  sternly. 
What  are  you  about,  Polly  Sweet  ?  I  did  n't  put  you 
here  to  whip  the  children,  nor  to  call  them  foul  names, 
but  to  take  care  of  their  mother  "  — 

"Well,  she's  dead,"  whimpered  the  young  woman, 
drying  her  smarting  eyes  upon  her  apron.  "  And  when 
I  sot  out  to  tell  the  young  ones,  and  send  Billy  to  the 
neighbors  for  help  to  lay  her  out,  that  imp  of  a  Deb, 
she  up  and  flew  in  my  face  like  a  wildcat,  trying  to 
scratch  my  eyes  out,  and  hollering  that  I  was  a  liar. 
So  I  took  the  stick  just  to  teach  her  manners  ;  and  the 
first  lick  she  got,  out  she  flew  "  — 

"  There,  that  will  do.  Go  into  the  house,  and  Debo- 
rah stay  out  here  and  play  with  my  little  Margaret. 
Margot,  this  is  the  poor  motherless  child  I  told  you  of. 
Fe  good  to  her." 


NAUGHTY  LITTLE  DEBORAH.  199 


"  She 's  very  dirty,  papa,"  said  Margot,  coldly. 

"  I 'm  better  than  you,  for  all  your  fal-lals,"  retorted 
Deborah,  promptly.  "  Go  away ;  we  don*t  want  you 
here  ;  you  're  too  fine." 

And  yet  the  French  Revolution  was  a  quarter  of  a 
century  beyond  them ! 

When  the  doctor  went  home,  after  arranging  for  the 
burial  of  the  poor  worn  body  and  the  safety  of  the  two 
boys  who  were  left  behind,  he  carried  little  Deborah, 
wrapped  in  her  mother's  cloak  and  seated  in  the  bottom 
of  the  chaise.  Margaret  said  but  very  little,  and  kept 
her  skirts  carefully  tucked  under  her.  Her  father  said 
less,  but  saw  everything,  and  silently  relinquished  his 
unspoken  plan  of  adopting  Deborah  into  his  own  family. 

"  It  would  be  bad  for  both,  and  worst  of  all  for  me," 
murmured  he  to  himself,  as  he  drove  into  Plymouth. 


CHAPTER  XXIL 


THE  INDIAN  SUMMER  AND  OBERRY. 

The  Peace  of  Paris  had  become  a  fact  as  well  as  a 
phrase.  The  Nova  Scotian  border  was  settled;  the 
Acadians,  returning  in  crowds  to  their  old  home,  were 
welcomed  as  prodigal  sons  by  the  British  government, 
which  bestowed  upon  them  lands  and  privileges,  pro- 
ductive of  envy  and  heartburning  on  the  part  of  the 
elder  sons  who  had  never  done  amiss.  Therese  Bru- 
nei was  married  to  Victor  Beaubien  of  Miramichi,  and 
when  she  felt  like  it,  threatened  to  go  to  Plymouth 
and  join  her  uncle  Bergeron,  who  had  not  returned  to 
Acadia.  Simeon  Samson  had  been  at  home,  satisfied 
himself  that  the  Lydia^s  ransom  was  honestly  paid,  and 
presently  sailed  again.  The  three  French  officers,  re- 
leased with  much  rejoicing,  still  lingered  in  Plymouth, 
waiting  to  hear  of  a  comfortable  passage  to  France ; 
and  the  eleventh  day  of  November  had,  with  laudable 
punctuality,  ushered  in  the  summer  of  St.  Martin,  or,  as 
the  Pilgrims  and  their  children  preferred  to  call  it,  the 
Indian  summer.  Philip  de  Montarnaud,  who  had  never 
encountered  this  delightful  Americanism,  was  wild  with 
the  exhilaration  of  the  air,  the  luxurious  warmth,  the 
subtle  charm  of  a  summer  so  potent  that  it  can  dispense 
with  roses  and  foliage. 

"  It 's  superb  in  its  self-assertion  !  "  cried  he.  "  It  is 
like  madame  my  mother,  who  in  her  white  hair  and 


THE  INDIAN  SUMMER  AND  0 BERRY.  201 


tender  coloring  makes  the  young  girls  pale  as  the  starf- 
do  before  the  moon.'* 

"  I  should  like  to  see  your  mother,  Philip,"  said  Mar- 
got,  clasping  her  hands  and  raising  her  great  dark  eyes 
to  his. 

The  young  man  glanced  laughingly  at  the  doctor,  who 
stood  with  them  upon  the  brow  of  Cole's  Hill,  silently 
drinking  in  the  glory  of  Manomet  and  the  deep  and 
wide  sea  shimmering  at  the  horizon  line  into  a  glory  too 
dazzling  for  human  sight. 

"  Perhaps  —  who  knows,  petite  ?  "  said  the  young 
man,  but  the  father  shook  his  head. 

"  I  have  had  enough  of  forecasting  the  future  ;  what 
will  be,  will  be,''  said  he.  "  But  come,  we  will  have  the 
chaise,  with  a  stool  for  Margot,  and  drive  along  the  sea 
road,  perhaps  as  far  as  Ponds  "  — 

"  Oh,  papa,  go  to  see  the  French  people.  I  like  that 
best  of  all  our  visits.    I  am  so  fond  of  Rosalie  Daudin." 

"  Fonder  than  of  poor  little  Deborah  Samson  ? " 
asked  her  father  slyly,  but  Margot  was  not  to  be  wiled 
into  vehemence,  and  sedately  replied,  "  Yes,  papa ;  but 
I  am  glad  Deborah  has  a  good  home  in  Middleboro'." 

"  She  might  have  had  a  good  home  with  us,  if  you 
had  been  more  amiable,"  said  the  doctor  gravely ;  but 
Margot  slid  her  hand  into  his,  with  an  upward  glance 
so  coaxing  that  the  man's  heart  melted  within  him,  and 
with  a  loving  squeeze  of  the  slender  brown  fingers  he 
dropped  them,  and  went  to  order  the  chaise.  At  the 
door  he  met  Priscilla,  a  lissome  lass,  with  sweet  gray 
eyes  and  the  prettiest,  tiniest  hands  were  ever  seen. 

"  Father  dear,  I  heard  you  tell  Pompey  to  put  oats  in 
the  chaise-box." 

"Yes,  Pris;  what  of  it?" 


202  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


"  You  will  be  away  all  day,  then  ?  " 
"  Perhaps  ;  why  ?  " 

"  Why,  you  know  to-morrow  is  Bessie's  wedding,  and 
the  parson  and  his  wife  and  Ammy  are  coining  to  tea 
to-night." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  forgot.  Ammy  wants  to  gloat  over  our 
misery  in  taking  tea  for  the  last  time  with  our  own 
Bess.    Well,  I  will  be  at  home  in  time  for  the  torture." 

"  Oh,  father  !    Poor  Ammy ! 

"  Rich  Ammy,  since  he 's  to  have  our  Bessie." 
Indeed  he  is.    And  we  thought,  if  you  liked  it,  fa- 
ther, to  ask  Mrs.  Hammatt  and  Lucy  and  her  brother 
Abraham  to  join  us.    We  were  there  at  tea  not  long 
ago. 

"  Very  well,"  replied  the  doctor,  shortly,  for  although 
he  knew  that  Elizabeth  would  be  well  and  wisely  mar- 
ried to  the  Rev.  Ammi  Robbins,  brother  of  his  own  pas- 
tor, it  was  a  great  grief  to  lose  her,  and  his  aversion  to 
the  proposed  feast  of  farewell  was  more  real  than  simu- 
lated ;  nor  was  this  sorrow  mitigated  by  Priscilla's  bash- 
ful suggestion  of  adding  the  Hammatts  to  such  a  party, 
for  although  the  child  was  still  short  of  her  sixteenth 
birthday,  people  married  young  in  those  days,  and  the 
friendly  village  voice  already  coupled  Priscilla's  name 
with  that  of  Abraham  Hammatt,  whose  father,  prosper- 
ing on  the  sea,  had  established  a  ropewalk  under  charge 
of  his  son,  where,  for  many  years  to  come,  cordage  and 
cables  for  the  Plymouth  shipping  were  laid  with  the 
skiU  and  conscience  of  men  who  felt  that  other  men's 
lives  might  depend  upon  the  honesty  of  their  labors. 

So,  although  the  doctor  liked  the  Hammatts,  father 
and  son,  and  had  an  affection  for  the  wife  and  mother, 
dating  back  to  the  day  when  she  so  bravely  accepted 


THE  INDIAN  SUMMER  AND  0 BERRY.  203 


her  lover  in  face  of  the  selectmen,  he  did  not  like  to 
hear  of  their  being  included  in  this  family  tea-party, 
and  turned  away  from  the  kitchen  door  with  a  sup- 
pressed sigh,  to  meet  the  chaise  Quasho  was  solemnly 
leading  out  of  the  stable  yard. 

"  Where 's  young  Pomp  ?  "  demanded  the  master, 
stepping  into  the  low  carriage. 

"  Gone  to  look  fer  Old  Pride,  I  'spect,"  replied  Quash, 
peevishly.  "  'Tween  'em  they  're  enough  to  make  a 
pore  ole  nigger  ready  'nough  to  renounce  dis  wicked 
world,  wid  all  its  pomps,  prides,  an'  oder  bedevilments." 

"  Glad  to  see  you  know  your  catechism  so  well.  Quash  ; 
and  when  you  get  hold  of  that  boy  again,  I  advise  you 
to  teach  him  that  the  way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard." 

"  An'  de  way  of  de  good  man  so  mighty  soft  dat  he 
apt  to  get  bogged  up  to  de  middle,"  replied  Quash, 
crossly,  as  he  glanced  at  a  muck-cart  already  prepared 
for  an  expedition  to  the  swamps,  whose  tenacious  black 
mud  makes  a  capital  dressing  for  the  sandy  soil  of 
Plymouth  gardens. 

But  a  little  later,  the  doctor,  ever  a  passionate  lover 
of  Nature,  forgot  all  frets  and  worries,  even  the  loss  of 
his  beloved  daughters,  in  the  deep  delight  of  living ;  for 
the  day  was  one  of  those  that  seem  sent  to  tenderly  lure 
man  from  earth  to  paradise,  thrilling  with  mystic  touch 
those  nerves  whose  vibrations  pass  like  waves  of  sound 
far  beyond  the  ken  of  their  first  motion.  Who  has  not 
stood,  on  such  a  day,  with  bated  breath  and  eager  eye, 
and  all  the  soul  on  tiptoe  with  anticii^ation  of  some 
audible  music  of  the  spheres,  some  visible  rift  in  the 
glittering  arch  of  heaven,  some  widening  out  of  the 
horizon  of  a  sea  that  seems  no  other  than  the  pathway 
of  a  glorious  eternity  ?    Who  has  not  felt  that  the  veil 


204  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


between  us  and  the  things  that  eye  hath  not  seen,  nor 
ear  heard,  nor  the  heart  of  man  comprehended,  has 
grown  so  attenuate  that  only  its  own  dazzling  glory  pre- 
vents us  from  piercing  it  ? 

Ah,  well,  ye  who  know  what  I  mean,  remember  that 
Nature  is  but  a  type,  and  that  Hope  beckons  us  on  to 
behold  the  antitype,  whose  perfectness  we  may  not  as 
yet  even  imagine. 

The  doctor  was  very  silent  as  he  drove  along  the  sea 
road,  or  stopped  now  and  again  at  some  vantage  point 
to  contemplate  the  view ;  for,  as  in  many  another 
moment  of  his  life,  he  felt  himself  more  alone  than  in 
solitude. 

Margot,  who  by  some  caprice  of  heredity  had  taken 
the  character  of  her  French  ancestry,  with  very  little 
impress  from  the  father  through  whom  it  came,  was  cold 
and  careless  of  scenery,  and  Philip  de  Montarnaud, 
polished  gentleman  that  he  was,  treated  Nature  with 
the  same  elaborate  courtesy  he  would  have  showed  to 
any  other  lady  with  whom  he  was  not  much  acquainted ; 
making  such  pretty  compliments  to  the  view  from  Man- 
omet  Point  that  the  doctor  somewhat  peremptorily  pro- 
posed that  he  and  Margot  should  get  out  and  look 
for  checkerberries  among  the  stunted  shrubbery  at 
hand. 

An  hour  or  so  later.  Black  Bess  was  halted  before  the 
largest  of  a  little  group  of  cottages  of  the  most  primitive 
construction,  recently  built  in  that  corner  of  Plymouth 
still  called  Oberry.  As  the  doctor  fastened  his  horse  to 
a  post,  while  Philip  helped  Margot  to  alight,  an  old 
woman,  with  healthy  frost-red  cheeks,  bright  blue  eyes, 
and  hair  whiter  even  than  her  Norman  cap,  appeared  at 
the  door^  and  in  a  voice  at  once  respectful  and  affection* 


THE  INDIAN  SUMMER  AND  0 BERRY,  205 


ate,  bade  the  doctor  welcome,  in  a  language  more  like 
the  French  of  France  than  that  of  Acadia. 

"  Ah,  mother  Bergeron !  cried  he,  in  the  French  of 
Paris,  "  I  have  brought  my  little  girl,  you  see,  and  also 
a  compatriot  of  yours,  Monsieur  de  Montarnaud,  who 
can  give  you  late  news  from  la  belle  France.'' 

But  I  am  honored  exceedingly,  and  so  are  my  chil- 
dren ! "  exclaimed  the  old  woman,  curtsying  again  and 
again.  "  The  little  granddaughter  will  be  proud  beyond 
saying  to  welcome  mademoiselle.  Ah,  Julie,  come 
here  then,  and  speak  for  yourself !  And  will  the 
gentlemen  give  themselves  the  trouble  to  enter  ?  " 

"  Indeed  we  will,  for  I  am  famishing  with  thirst,  and 
nothing  will  quench  it  but  a  glass  of  your  cider,  mother 
Bergeron,"  said  the  doctor,  taking  off  his  three-cornered 
hat,  and  passing  a  handkerchief  across  his  high  but 
somewhat  narrow  forehead. 

"  We  have  it  just  new,  and  yet  ripe  enough  to  be 
safe,"  declared  the  old  woman,  well  pleased.  "And 
mademoiselle  must  have  a  little  glass  of  my  raspberry 
cordial  and  a  bit  of  galette.  And  monsieur  —  pardon 
if  I  ask  once  more  —  ah,  then,  I  have  surely  seen  — 
pardon,  monsieur  —  I  am  but  a  silly  old  woman,  and 
yet  —  the  eyes  of  monsieur  are  so  strangely  like  my 
darling  little  lady's  —  indulge  an  old  woman,  monsieur, 
and  tell  me  if  you  are  of  the  family  De  Vielleroche  ?  " 

"  My  mother  is  nde  Frangoise  de  Vielleroche/'  replied 
Philip  de  Montarnaud,  polite  but  puzzled. 

Did  not  my  heart  tell  me  so !  "  exclaimed  the  old 
woman,  clasping  her  hands,  while  the  russet-bloom 
spread  over  all  her  face. 

"  She  was  my  foster  child,  —  my  poor  little  Babette's 
foster  sister.     They  said  I  gave  her  Babette's  life. 


206   DR.  LeBARON  and  his  DAUGHTERS. 


but  if  so  it  was  her  right ;  the  Lavels  and  Bergerons 
served  the  Seigneurs  de  Vielleroche  in  the  days  of  the 
great  Henri,  and  it  was  her  right  "  — 

You  were  my  mother's  foster  mother !  "  cried  Philip, 
seizing  the  old  woman's  two  hands,  and  looking  eagerly 
into  her  face. 

"But  yes,  monsieur,  but  yes;  and  my  old  heart 
warmed  to  the  beautiful  eyes  of  her  so  soon  as  I  saw 
them  looking  at  me  out  of  the  face  of  monsieur.  Ah, 
del !  It  is  the  first  moment  of  joy  I  have  known  in 
the  fifty  years  I  have  lived  in  exile  here  in  this  land  so 
triste,  so  savage,  so  desolate.  The  good  God  saw  that 
I  could  bear  no  more,  and  has  sent  me  this  moment  "  — 

"  What  is  it,  grandmfere  ?  "  cried  a  blithe  young  voice, 
and  in  at  the  back  door  of  the  cottage  tripped  a  pretty 
girl,  her  brown  face  rosy,  and  her  black  eyes  bright  with 
the  exertion  of  bringing  in  a  great  basket  of  late  pears. 
A  Normandy  cap  of  snow-white  muslin  nearly  covered 
her  glossy  hair,  and  a  kerchief  of  the  same  material 
was  crossed  upon  her  bosom.  Seeing  the  strangers,  she 
started,  colored  painfully,  and  made  a  movement  to 
withdraw,  but  the  doctor  gayly  cried  :  — 

"  No  escape,  Alix !  We  have  all  seen  you,  and  know 
as  well  as  if  you  told  us  that  Jean  Daudin  is  just  out- 
side, and  has  been  helping  you  house  the  pears." 

"Nay,  monsieur,  they  are  a  present  to  grandmfere 
from  —  from  his  father,  who  gathered  them  in  the  garden 
of  Monsieur  Vasson  "  — 

"  Watson,  —  Squire  Watson  ?  "  interposed  the  doctor, 
laughing.  "  I  knew  he  had  Daudin  at  work  for  him, 
but  it  was  Jean  fils,  and  not  Jean  pfere,  that  brought 
them  over  to  you,  now  was  n't  it,  Alix  ?  " 

"But  yes,  monsieur  le  Docteur.     P^re  Daudin  has 


THE  INDIAN  SUMMER  AND  0 BERRY.  207 


taught  his  children  to  wait  upon  him,"  replied  Alix,  de- 
murely ;  and  having  put  her  basket  in  a  corner,  she 
applied  herself  to  helping  her  grandmother  set  out  the 
simple  refreshments  she  was  proud  to  offer  to  her 
guests. 

An  hour  or  so  passed  by,  to  be  marked  in  red  letter 
upon  poor  homesick  Marie  Bergeron's  calendar,  for  the 
young  Frenchman  indulged  her  to  the  uttermost  in  de- 
scriptions of  his  mother  and  her  married  home,  of  the 
old  chateau  de  Vielleroche,  where  he  had  often  visited 
his  grandparents  and  uncle  and  aunt,  and  of  his  own 
adventures  in  the  service  of  his  native  land.  At  length 
the  doctor  interposed,  watch  in  hand,  and  reminded 
Philip  that  they  had  still  some  visits  to  pay,  and  the  tea- 
party  in  prospect.  Then  drawing  Mother  Bfergeron 
apart,  he  inquired  :  — 

"  Is  it  decided  that  Alix  will  marry  Jean  Daudin  ?  " 

"  But  surely  yes,  monsieur." 

"  And  what  about  a  priest  ?  " 

"  Ah,  monsieur,  there  is  the  only  sorrow  of  our  hearts ! 
None  can  tell  us  where  our  own  dear  Pfere  Augustin  has 
been  carried,  and  we  know  no  one  in  this  melancholy 
place.  Even  Pfere  LeBlanc,  the  notary,  has  been  carried 
who  knows  where.  If  you  were  a  notary,  monsieur 
le  Docteur,  we  would  rather  confide  the  marriage  to  you 
than  to  wait  for  some  priest  who  will  never  come." 

"  I  will  tell  you,  mother  Bergeron.  We  have  a  minis- 
ter, if  not  a  priest,  who  speaks  French  admirably,  and 
the  law  holds  his  marriage  as  valid  as  a  notary's  or  as 
Pere  Augustin's." 

"  A  heretic,  monsieur ! "  murmured  the  old  woman, 
crossing  herself  and  drawing  back. 

"  A  Protestant  like  myself,  —  yes,  but  as  good  a  man 


208  DR,  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


and  faithful  a  shepherd  of  souls  as  lives,"  replied  the 
doctor,  rather  severely.  "And  his  marriage  will  be 
legal,  and  he  can  solemnize  it  in  French.  Talk  it  over 
among  yourselves,  and  some  day  when  I  am  up  here 
let  me  know  your  decision.  And  now,  good-by.  Come, 
Margot,  say  the  last  word  to  Julie,  and  jump  in.  Adieu, 
Alix ;  ask  your  grandmfere  what  I  have  said  to  her. 
Now,  then,  Philip  !  " 

And  the  yellow-bodied  chaise  creaked  once  upon  its 
easy  springs,  and  then  rolled  down  the  sandy  road,  its 
hood  wagging  up  and  down  at  each  step,  as  if  nodding 
assent  to  the  merry  chatter  going  on  beneath  it. 


CHAPTER  XXni. 


THE  PRICE  OP  A  WOMAN. 

Look  here,  Quash !  What 's  this  I  hear  about 
you?" 

"  Lors,  mas'r,  how  kin  I  tell  ?  Mabbe  you  hear  I 
done  git  de  sleigh  down  and  rub  it  all  up  fine,  ready  fer 
de  snow  dat 's  ban  gin'  ober  Cap'n's  Hill." 

"  No,  sir.  What  did  you  say  to  Judge  Paine,  only 
this  morning  ?  " 

"  You  don'  mean  to  say  dat  ole  gen'leman  got  round 
quick  as  dis  fer  ter  tell  you,  mas'r !  Well,  dat  jis'  prove 
de  truf  o'  what  I  said." 

"  Well,  what  was  it?" 

"W'y,  mas'r,  I  met  de  jedge  comin'  out  o'  Mas' 
Howland's ;  he  so  gran'  dat  he  can't  go  to  common  tav- 
erns sech  as  "  — 

"  Never  mind  your  opinion  as  to  either  him  or  the 
taverns,  —  what  did  you  say  to  him,  sirrah  ?  " 

"  W'y,  mas'r,  I  des  offer  him  de  complimen's  ob  de 
season,  and  pullin'  off  my  hat  berry  respeckful  I  says, 
^  Good-mornin',  Jedge,'  "  says  I.  '  What 's  de  news  dis 
mornin',  Jedge  ? '  says  I ;  an'  he  lay  he  head  back  like 
as  ole  Kate  does  w'en  she  goin'  to  kick,  an'  sort  o' 
sighted  'long  de  side  ob  he  great  nose  tryin'  fer  ter 
make  out  w'ere  dat  mis'able  no  account  nigger  mout  be 
dat  dare  ax  him  a  ques'ion  ;  an'  w'en  he  foun'  me  he 
kind  o'  consider  me  a  minute,  an'  den  growls  out,  '  All 
de  news  dat  consarn  you  is,  de  debble 's  dead  ! '    So  I 


210  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


jes  t'ank  him  for  his  perliteness,  an'  says,  says  I,  *  Sho ! 
Dat  pore  feller  dead  !  Well,  I  knowed  he  was  in  pam 
dis  long  time,  but  did  n'  spec  he 'd  'scaped  out ! '  Dat 
all  I  said,  mas'r,  'clare  to  gracious  't  is  !  " 

"  That 's  all,  is  it !  Well,  sir,  I  advise  you  not  to  get 
yourself  into  court  this  week,  while  Justice  Paine  is  on 
the  bench." 

"  Specs  I 'd  fin'  justice  'thout  mercy,  shore  ; "  and 
Quasho  was  going  away  chuckling,  when  a  breathless 
boy  upon  a  hard-trotting  horse  drew  rein  at  the  head  of 
the  alley  where  the  doctor  was  standing,  and  delivered 
a  message  to  the  effect  that  Mrs.  Wadsworth  of  Marsh- 
field  was  very  ill,  and  must  see  Doctor  LeBaron  without 
delay. 

"  Why  did  n't  she  send  for  one  of  the  Marshfield 
doctors  ?  "  asked  the  doctor  in  a  vexed  voice.  "  I  don't 
care  for  practice  twenty  miles  from  home." 

Dat  Miss  Lizzie  Doten,  ain't  it  ?  "  inquired  Quash, 
who  had  paused  to  assist  at  the  interview. 

"  Yes,"  replied  his  master,  crossly. 
Well,  seem  to  me  mighty  nat'ral  dat  de  pore  soul 
want  to  show  she  don'  bear  no  grudge  'gainst  mas'r  doc- 
tor fer  fotchin'  her  inter  de  worl'  by  gibbin  him  a 
chance  to  help  her  out." 

"  There,  that  will  do,  Quasho.  You  've  reached  the 
end  of  your  tether." 

"  Guess  den  I  better  go  an'  put  ole  Kate  inter  de 
sulky,  had  n't  I,  mas'r  ?  " 

"  No,  I  '11  take  Black  Bess.  It 's  a  long  drive,"  re- 
plied the  doctor,  absently ;  and  Quasho  shuffled  away, 
muttering,  — 

"  Know'd  he 'd  go  to  Lizzie  Doten." 

Quentin  Wadsworth's  farm  was  on  th^  outskirts  of 


THE  PRICE  OF  A  WOMAN. 


211 


Marshfield,  toward  the  sea,  and  as  the  doctor  listened  to 
Elizabeth's  entreaties,  and  waited  for  dinner  before  he 
started,  it  was  already  twilight  when  he  arrived  at  the 
lonely  gray  house,  so  squat  to  the  ground  and  so  sur- 
rounded with  tentacle-like  out-buildings  and  additions 
that  it  much  resembled  a  great  gray  spider  with  all  its 
legs  extended  in  the  effort  to  cling  to  the  ground,  whence 
the  raging  autumn  winds  constantly  sought  to  wrench  it. 

A  pocket  of  arable  land  niched  in  among  the  sand- 
dunes  and  extending  back  among  the  evergreen  woods 
composed  the  farm  on  land,  and  limitless  miles  of  ocean 
rolling  almost  to  his  doorstep  was  the  farmer's  planta- 
tion at  sea,  and  the  source  of  more  than  half  his  revenue. 

A  garden,  hedged  and  diked  from  the  salt  spray  and 
biting  winds,  lay  at  the  south  of  the  house,  and  in  its 
most  sheltered  corner  stood  a  row  of  basket  beehives, 
their  product  giving  the  farmer's  wife  her  pocket  money, 
or,  if  she  chose,  her  private  hoard. 

With  his  hand  upon  the  great  iron  latch  of  the  kitchen 
door,  the  doctor  paused  and  looked  around. 

"  A  dirty  night,  and  something  more  than  that,'*  said 
he,  glancing  at  the  dense  black  clouds  rolling  up  across 
the  low-hung  gray  of  the  sky,  and  listening  to  the 
peculiar  moan  of  the  sea  making  upon  the  Marshfield 
flats. 

Looks  as  if  the  line  storm  had  forgot  something 
and  come  back  to  look  for  it,"  drawled  a  slow  voice  at 
his  ear,  and  the  doctor  turned  to  greet  a  long,  lean, 
melancholy  man  in  early  middle  life,  whose  yellow  skin 
and  eyes  and  colorless  lips  told  their  mournful  tale  of 
dyspepsia  and  bilious  depression. 

Come  in.  Doctor.  I  expect  the  woman 's  going  to- 
night.   Tide  sets  out  'bout  three  in  the  morning.    It  'a 


212  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


making  now,  and  fetching  in  ugly  weather.  It  '11  be  a 
main  bad  night  for  her  to  go.  Seems  as  though  any- 
thing as  light  as  a  sperit  would  blow  away  in  such  a  gale 
as  is  coming,  —  could  n't  fetch,  somehow." 

The  doctor  turned  and  looked  at  him  with  a  profes- 
sional eye. 

"  Do  you  eat  those  sour  apples  before  breakfast,  as  I 
told  you  ?  "  demanded  he. 

"  Consid'able  often.  Doctor,  but  some  days  I  don't 
feel  to  eat  nothing." 

"  But  you  drink  coffee,  instead  ?  " 

"  Now  and  agin.  Doctor." 

"  Like  to  feel  sick,  don't  you  ?  '* 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  like  it  first  rate,  Doctor." 

"  Why,  yes,  you  do,  or  else  you  're  a  fool,  and  I 
should  n't  like  to  think  that  of  you.  I  told  you  that 
coffee  and  chocolate  and  fat  pork  and  molasses  all  were 
bad  for  you.  I  told  you  that  acid  fruit  and  stale  wheat 
bread  and  lean  meat  and  raw  eggs  and  some  other 
things  were  good  for  you.  You  choose  the  first  lot  and 
neglect  the  second,  so  I  can  only  conclude  you  love  to  be 
sick.    Now  take  me  to  your  wife." 

"  She 's  in  grandma' am's  part ;  said  the  bedroom  was 
too  cramped  like." 

And  Wadsworth  led  the  way  from  the  great  empty 
kitchen  through  a  dark  passage  to  what  had  once  been 
the  farmhouse  ;  but  another  front  having  been  added 
to  the  structure  at  Quentin's  marriage,  it  had  now  be- 
come simply  the  old  part,"  where  Quentin's  father  and 
mother  had  lived  and  died,  the  latter  event  being  of 
very  recent  occurrence.  Here,  in  a  large  low  room 
darkened  by  curtains  of  striped  linseywoolsey  of  her 
CWD  spinning  and  weaving,  lay  poor  Lizzie  Wadswortb 


THE  PRICE  OP  A  WOMAN. 


213 


dying  of  consumption,  and  pining,  as  Plymouth  people 
always  do  in  misfortune  or  illness,  for  the  quaint  old 
town  by  the  sea. 

The  doctor  looked  at  her,  and  hardly  needed  to  lay  a 
finger  upon  the  thready  pulse  or  to  bend  his  ear  toward 
the  laboring  lungs  to  know  that  the  end  was  close  at 
hand,  and  that  only  as  a  man  and  as  a  Christian  could 
he  be  of  any  use. 

So  sitting  down  beside  the  bed,  he  began  to  speak  in 
a  quiet,  cheerful  way  of  the  old  days  when  Lizzie  Doten 
with  some  of  his  own  daughters  were  scholars  together 
at  Mistress  Molly  Cobb's  dame  school,  on  North  Street, 
where  they  were  taught  that  s,h,a,l,l  spelt  shawl,  and  Mis- 
tress Cobb  illustrated  the  instruction  by  twitching  at 
her  own  little  plaid  shoulder-shawl,  and  saying,  "  Like 
this,  you  know,  child."  Furthermore,  after  spelling  out 
the  sentence,  "  Hot  love  is  soon  cold,"  they  were  told, 
"  Yes,  hot  loaf  is  soon  cold  if  you  set  it  eend  up,  in  the 
butt'ry  window,  as  you 'd  oughter." 

"  The  house  and  all  is  gone  now,  though,"  whispered 
the  sick  woman,  forgetting  her  own  ill  feelings  for  the 
moment. 

"  Yes,  Josiah  Rider  bought  it  and  built  a  new  house, 
and  afterward  sold  it  to  his  sister,  widow  Jackson,  who 
kept  a  chocolate  shop  there  ten  years  or  more ;  and 
excellent  chocolate  she  made,  as  good  as  I  have  ever 
drunk.  Well,  poor  soul,  her  labors  are  over  at  last,  and 
she  is  at  rest." 

"  Widow  Hannah  Jackson  dead !  "  murmured  the 
sick  woman,  one  of  the  ruling  passions  of  her  sex  strong 
even  then. 

"  Yes,  a  year  or  two  since,  and  left  her  house  and 
land  to  her  granddaughter,  Elizabeth  Shurtleff,  whom 
I  dare  say  you  remember." 


214  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


"  Yes,  but  younger  than  we  were." 

"  I  suppose  so,  —  yes.  Well,  Elizabeth  has  married 
Ephraim  Spooner,  a  fine  brisk  young  fellow  and  well 
to  do.  He  has  bought  the  land  through  to  King  Street, 
where  our  malcontents  built  a  church  and  presently 
pulled  it  down  again,  and  he  has  opened  an  alley  through 
from  Howland  Street  to  King  Street,  just  answering 
my  alley  from  King  to  Leyden  Street,  and  "  — 

But  the  eyelids  had  slowly  fallen,  and  the  lines  of 
sleepless  pain  were  fading  out  of  the  forehead,  in  a 
blessed  moment  of  obliviousness ;  so  the  doctor  allowed 
his  low  tones  to  gently  lapse  into  silence,  and  folding 
his  arms  leaned  back,  watching  the  glorious  gleams  of 
color,  metallic  blue,  softest  rose,  green,  and  royal  purple, 
that  shot  fitfully  up  from  the  driftwood  upon  the  fire, 
a  section  of  the  stern  part  of  some  long-forgotten  craft ; 
heart  of  oak,  and  hard  to  conquer  it  was,  but  the  cruel 
creeping  tongues  of  fiame  lapped  again  and  again  over 
the  firm-grained  plank,  until  the  last  moist  breath  was 
scorched  away,  and  then  they  danced  upon  the  black- 
ened surface,  and  ate  deeper  and  deeper  toward  the 
heart. 

"  I  saw  the  same  thing  in  Paris,"  muttered  the  doc- 
tor, his  memory  going  back  to  certain  glittering  temp- 
tations his  youth  had  resisted,  not  altogether  from  pure 
horror  of  sin,  but  partly  from  keen  observation  of  the 
effect  of  their  indulgence  upon  his  comrades. 

The  reverie  was  broken  by  an  invitation  to  supper,  as 
the  evening  meal  was  honestly  called  when  tea  was 
hardly  known. 

A  young  girl,  daughter  of  the  housekeeper,  came  to 
sit  with  the  sick  woman,  and  the  doctor,  cautioning  her 
to  be  quiet,  returned  to  the  kitchen,  where  his  host  and 


THE  PRICE  OF  A  WOMAN. 


215 


the  good  woman  who  "  did  **  for  him,  and  intended, 
after  a  decent  interval,  to  marry  him,  stood  waiting,  one 
at  either  end  of  a  table  without  a  cloth,  whereon  stood 
what  might  well  have  been  the  remains  of  Miss  Mi  my 
Nourse's  dinner.  On  a  huge  pewter  platter  lay  a  mass 
of  cold  salt  beef,  with  another  of  pork,  and  around  both 
a  wreath  of  cold  vegetables ;  a  loaf  of  rye  and  Indian 
bread,  a  quarter  of  a  cheese,  a  plate  of  butter,  a  dish  of 
simballs,  a  jug  of  cider  and  another  of  milk :  such  was 
the  feast,  and  probably  ninety-nine  out  of  a  hundred  of 
the  supper  tables  set  out  that  evening  in  the  Old  Colony 
would  have  borne  a  marvelous  resemblance  to  it. 

The  master  of  the  house  asked  a  blessing  (for  although 
men  in  those  days  were  chary  of  compliments  to  each 
other,  they  had  not  learned  to  be  discourteous  toward 
God,  and  always  thanked  Him  for  his  gifts),  and  then 
the  little  party  sat  down. 

"  About  as  heavy  a  storm  as  I  Ve  seen  this  ten  year 
back,"  said  Wadsworth,  piling  his  guest's  plate. 

"  Yes,  —  a  wild  night,  a  wild  night,"  said  the  doctor 
absently,  for  the  noise  of  the  lashing  waves  upon  the 
flat  shore,  the  shrieking  of  the  wind,  and  swirl  of  the 
rain  driven  like  shot  upon  the  window  panes,  combined 
in  his  consciousness  with  the  sense  of  impending  death, 
and  produced  one  of  those  abstracted  and  exalted  moods 
before  which  the  details  of  ordinary  life  pass  almost  un- 
heeded. 

"  I 've  got  a  bed  all  made  up  for  the  doctor,  Mr. 
Wadsworth,"  said  the  housekeeper,  as  they  rose  from 
table. 

I 'm  obliged  to  you,  but  I  shall  not  use  it  yet,"  re- 
plied the  doctor,  turning  with  his  hand  upon  the  latch. 

I  will  sit  awhile  with  my  patient.  Wadsworth,  I 
hardly  think  she  '11  last  till  the  turn  of  the  tide." 


216   DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


"  She 's  a  very  sick  woman,  1  know,  but  they  mostly 
go  out  with  the  tide,"  replied  the  husband,  phlegmat- 
ically. 

"  I  guess  I  *11  see  if  she  don't  want  some  gruel  or 
something  before  you  set  down  with  her,"  said  the  house- 
keeper, taking  a  little  copper  skillet  from  the  corner  of 
the  fireplace,  and  pouring  the  contents  into  a  bowl. 

Pity  to  waste  plum-porridge  when  you  Ve  got  it 
made." 

^'It  would  be  wasted  indeed  if  she  swallowed  it," 
said  the  doctor,  "  but  she  won't ; "  and  in  effect,  when 
a  few  moments  later  he  entered  the  sick-room,  he  found 
little  Nancy  greedily  devouring  the  porridge,  while  her 
mother,  solemnly  shaking  her  head,  left  the  room,  say- 
ing:  — 

"  Mis'  Wadsworth's  eat  her  last  mess  o'  gruel  in  this 
world." 

Let  us  hope  she  will  be  asked  to  eat  none  in  the 
world  to  come,"  muttered  the  doctor,  who  detested 
gruel,  but  neither  the  housekeeper  nor  Nancy  heard 
this  pious  aspiration ;  and  presently,  with  a  hearth  clean 
swept,  two  or  three  fresh  candles  near  by,  and  a  pretty 
little  vellum-covered  French  treatise  on  the  possibility 
of  an  Elixir  Vitae  in  his  hand,  the  doctor  settled  himself 
to  read  and  think,  to  watch  the  driftwood  as  it  flamed 
in  fiery  iris,  and  to  listen  to  the  spirit  of  the  storm 
madly  shrieking  for  entrance  to  that  death-room. 
Suddenly  the  doctor  laid  down  his  French  book,  and 
fetching  a  great  Bible  from  the  table  between  the  win- 
dows turned  to  the  Song  of  the  Three  Children,  and 
read  aloud  as  if  to  invisible  auditors. 

"  But  the  angel  of  the  Lord  came  down  into  the  fur- 
nace together  with  Azarias  and  his  fellows,  and  smote 


THE  PRICE  OF  A  WOMAN. 


217 


the  flame  of  the  fire  out  of  the  oven,  and  made  the 
midst  of  the  furnace  as  it  had  been  a  moist  whistling 
wind,  so  that  the  fire  touched  them  not  at  all,  neither 
hurt  nor  troubled  them.*'  And  again  turning  the  leaves 
he  added,  in  the  voice  of  one  who  confutes  an  adversary, 
"  Behold  the  Lord's  hand  is  not  shortened  that  it  can- 
not save,  neither  his  ear  heavy  that  it  cannot  hear !  " 

Even  as  he  rescued  those,  so  shall  he  rescue  this."  And 
being  all  alone  with  God,  and  the  Prince  of  the  Power 
of  the  Air,  and  his  servant  Death,  Doctor  LeBaron  knelt 
beside  the  deathbed,  and  prayed  silently  and  fervently, 
and  after  his  own  fashion. 

Midnight  struck,  and  almost  immediately  the  bed» 
room  door  opened  very  quietly  to  admit  the  husband. 

"  How  is  she  ?  "  whispered  he. 

"  Very  low.    Going  fast.    She  is  unconscious/ 
Can  yoti  tell  how  long  ?  " 

"  Not  precisely.    Perhaps  an  hour." 

"  Tide  turns  at  three." 

"  I  cannot  tell  if  she  will  wait  for  it." 

"Well,  I  want  to  know  very  particular  just  a  few 
minutes  before  she  goes." 

"  I  will  call  you,  but  probably  she  will  not  be  con- 
scious." 

^'  That 's  no  matter.    I 'd  like  to  know  sure.'' 
"  Well,  I  will  call  you." 

The  door  closed  as  softly  as  it  had  opened,  but  in  an- 
other hour  reopened,  and  the  same  colloquy  ensued. 

Again  at  two,  and  the  doctor  grew  rather  ashamed 
of  not  having  appreciated  the  tender  affection  of  the 
undemonstrative  husband,  and  suggested  :  — 

"  You  had  better  come  and  sit  here  with  me.  Possibly 
she  may  be  conscious  for  a  moment,  at  the  last." 


218    DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS, 


"  No,  I  Ve  got  to  get  ready  and  be  right  on  hand  be- 
fore the  last  breath 's  got  cold  on  the  air.  But  I  might 
wait  in  here,  I  suppose." 

"  Yes,  wait  in  here,"  said  the  doctor,  stooping  to  lis- 
ten to  the  fluttering  breath.  "  Each  moment  may  be  the 
last." 

The  farmer  disappeared,  and  the  doctor,  a  finger  on 
the  pulse  and  his  eyes  upon  that  gray  changed  face,  sat 
thinking  his  own  thoughts  and  waiting  to  see  the  end. 

Once  more  the  door  opened,  and  a  strange  burly 
figure  entered  ;  it  was  indeed  Quentin  Wadsworth,  but 
so  disguised  that  LeBaron,  for  the  moment,  saw  in 
him  only  the  embodiment  of  his  own  fantastic  visions. 
A  yellow  oilskin  coat  covered  him  from  head  to  heel, 
and  was  girt  about  the  middle  with  a  red  woolen  scarf ; 
a  hat  of  the  same  material,  and  furnished  with  a  cape 
falling  upon  the  shoulders,  was  tied  down  bonnet-wise 
by  a  little  plaid  shawl  belonging  to  Nancy  ;  a  tin  lan- 
tern, pierced  with  many  holes,  through  which  shone  a 
dubious  and  broken  light,  was  in  his  hand,  and  it  was  in 
a  voice  hoarse  with  emotion  that  he  whispered  :  — 

"  Is  she  going  ?    It 's  'most  three." 

"  Almost  gone.  Are  you  going  for  the  minister,  or 
Doctor  Willis  ?  " 

"  Nary  one.    She  saw  the  minister  to-day,  and  Willis 
ain't  a  patch  on  you  for  a  doctor." 
What,  then?" 

«  Why,  I 'm  going  to  tell  the  bees !  Did  n't  you  know 
why  I  was  so  pertikler  about  bein'  called  ?  If  there 's  a 
death,  and  you  don't  tell  the  bees  of  it,  first  thing  'fore 
the  breath 's  cold,  they  '11  all  leave  early  in  the  morning, 
and  you  '11  never  see  them  again." 


THE  PRICE  OF  A  WOMAN.  219 


"  And  that  was  why  you  were  so  anxious  to  know  the 
moment  of  her  death  ?  " 
"Yes,  that  was  it." 

"  How  fond  you  aro  of —  your  bees  ! " 

The  man  paused  for  a  slow  moment  of  pondering,  and 
then  said  in  his  heavy  tones :  — 

"  I  s'pose  you  mean  I  ain't  fond  of  my  wife,  but  I 
am.  Fact  is  I 'm  free  to  confess  I 'd  rather  have  lost 
every  bee  I 've  got ;  why,  I 'd  rather  have  lost  the  best 
cow  in  my  herd  than  lost  that  woman,  I  had  so  !  But 
if  I  Ve  got  to  lose  her,  why,  it  don't  make  it  any  better 
to  lose  the  bees  inter  the  bargain,  and  she  was  main 
fond  of  'em  herself." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  see  —  be  quiet  now !  "  And  fifteen  min- 
utes ticked  away,  while  the  husband  stood  like  a  statue, 
and  the  doctor,  with  his  back  to  him,  sat  wiping  the 
death  damps  from  that  cadaverous  face,  and  revolving 
many  thoughts  in  a  mind  that  seldom  found  full  ex- 
pression. 

At  last  he  turned  his  head,  and  motioned  toward  the 
door  with  his  hand.  Quentin  Wadsworth  stirred,  hesi- 
tated, then  on  laborious  tiptoe  drew  near  the  bed,  gazed 
for  a  moment,  then  stooped  and  kissed  the  clammy 
brow. 

"  Good-by,  Liz,"  muttered  he ;  but  the  doctor,  moving 
impatiently,  said  :  — 

"  Go  tell  the  bees,  man,  or  you  may  lose  them  into 
the  bargain." 

And  as  the  old  eight-day  clock  in  the  kitchen  with 
moan  and  groan  struck  three,  and  the  tide  on  Marsh- 
field  flats  hung  lifeless  for  a  moment  before  it  turned  to 
the  ebb,  Lizzie  Wadsworth's  soul  went  forth  to  meet  its 


220    DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


Judge,  and  her  husband,  breasting  the  howling  wind, 
bung  over  the  beehives  and  chanted  :  — 

"  Bees,  I  tell  you  of  a  death, 
And  bring  you  here  the  parting  breath  t 
Death  has  come  and  death  has  gone  • 
Make  your  honey  in  the  morn." 


CHAPTER  XXIV, 


A  SCENE  OF  HORROR. 

"  Doctor,  if  you  ain't  in  too  great  of  a  hurry,  I  *d  be 
very  much  beholden  to  you  to  stop  as  you  go  apast  the 
bury  in'  ground,  and  help  me  pick  out  a  spot  for  Lizzie, 
Somehow  I  don't  like  to  go  alone  to  such  places,  with 
death  in  the  house  and  all." 

The  doctor's  smile  was  quizzical,  but  his  answer  was 
courteous. 

"  I  will  gladly  do  all  I  can  to  please  you,  friend 
Wadsworth,  for  you  have  taught  me  much  of  human 
nature." 

Quentin  Wadsworth  cogitated  this  reply  all  the  way 
to  the  graveyard,  but  never  arrived  at  its  interpretation, 
and  for  the  rest  of  his  life  rather  resented  it. 

The  grave  was  soon  selected,  and  while  Quentin  drove 
some  little  stakes  to  mark  its  boundaries,  the  doctor  went 
a  few  steps  farther  to  read  an  epitaph  of  which  he  was 
fond. 

"  Here  Lyes  Ye  Ashes 
Of  Ye  Reverend  Learned 
&  Pious  Mr  Edward  Tompson 
Pastor  of  Ye  Church  of 
Marshfield  who  Suddenly- 
Departed  This  Life  March 
Ye  16th  1705 
Anno  -^tatis  Suee  40 

**  Here  in  a  Tyrant's  Hand  Doth  Captive  Lye 
A  Rare  Synopsis  of  Divinity, 


222  DR.  LeBaeon  and  his  daughters. 


Old  Patriarchs,  Prophets,  Gospel  Bishops  Meet 
Under  Deep  Silence  in  their  winding  Sheet ; 
Here  Rest  Awhile  in  Hope,  with  Full  Intent 
When  their  King  Calls  to  Meet  in  Parliament." 

"Looking  at  old  Parson  Tompson's  stone,  Doctor? 
Ah,  he  was  a  learned  man  !  I 've  heard  the  old  folks 
say  his  sermons  were  stuffed  so  full  of  Greek  and  Latin 
you  could  hardly  understand  a  word  of  'em.  He  wan't 
the  man  to  put  his  neighbors  to  an  open  shame  talking 
at  'em  in  meeting,  as  some  folks  do.  I 'd  like  to  set 
under  just  such  another  man  "  — 

" '  To  sit  in  Parliament,' "  murmured  the  doctor, 
catching  at  the  only  word  his  brain  had  assimilated. 

"  Eh  ?  "  gasped  Quentin. 

"  Oh,  yes  —  yes,  the  reverend  doctor  died  only  a  few 
months  after  my  father,  and  I  dare  say  they  were  ac- 
quainted." 

"  Like  enough,  like  enough ;  doctors  and  parsons  mostly 
are  acquainted.  Well,  sir,  I  '11  bid  you  good-day,  and 
am  greatly  obliged  for  your  company.  I  suppose  there  '11 
be  a  pretty  heavy  bill,  but  if  you  '11  be  kind  of  easy  " — 

"  It 's  got  to  be  all  paid  up  before  you  marry  again  ; 
mind  that,  Wadsworth,  or  I  '11  come  and  kill  your  bees." 

And  the  doctor,  stepping  into  his  sulky,  nodded  to  his 
astonished  debtor,  touched  Black  Bess  with  the  whip, 
and  set  off  on  his  long  drive  over  the  sandy  roads 
and  through  the  melancholy  autumn  woods  between 
Marshfield  and  Plymouth. 

He  was  within  a  few  miles  of  home,  and  already  won- 
dering what  Elizabeth  would  have  ready  for  dinner, 
when  both  he  and  Bess  were  startled  by  a  succession 
of  piercing  shrieks  and  cries  of  "  Murder !  Murder ! 
Help !    Fire  !    Murder  !  "  —  all  in  the  gasping  voice  of 


A  SCENE  OF  HORROR 


223 


a  woman,  who  ran  and  stumbled  and  fell,  and  picked 
herself  up,  but  never  stopped  shrieking  for  one  single 
moment. 

Whoa,  Bess !  Be  quiet,  you  beast !  Who  *s  there  ? 
This  way  !  " 

And  not  waiting  for  his  call  to  be  obeyed,  the  doctor 
sprang  from  his  carriage,  knotted  the  rein  around  a 
tree,  and  hastened  up  the  narrow  wood-road  whence 
came  the  shrieks  and  exclamations.  Just  around  the 
first  turn  he  had  to  step  suddenly  aside  into  the  bushes, 
to  avoid  collision  with  the  frantic  creature  who  uttered 
them,  and  who,  in  all  the  blind  terror  of  a  frightened 
animal,  was  plunging  past,  never  seeing  him,  when  the 
doctor,  who  knew  the  face  of  every  man,  woman,  and 
child  within  ten  miles  of  his  own  door,  caught  her  by  the 
arm,  exclaiming :  — 

"  Hannah  Crombie,  what 's  the  matter  with  you  ? 
You  're  safe  now,  girl ;  stop  screaming,  and  tell  me  what 
has  so  frightened  you." 

"  O  Doctor  LeBaron !  Oh,  Doctor  !  " 

"  Well,  what  is  it,  child  ? 

"  Oh,  little  Molly  and  Neddie,  and  Dorcas  and  baby 
—  oh,  oh,  oh  ! 

"  Has  something  happened  to  the  children  ?  Where 
are  Mr.  English  and  your  mistress  ?  " 

"All,  all,  every  one  of  them,  he  and  all,  and  I  to 
come  in  on  them  singing  away  as  happy  —  oh,  I  'li 
never  sing  again,  never,  never,  n-e-v-e-r  !  And  with 
the  frightened  quaver  of  her  last  word  Hannah  went  off 
into  violent  hysterics,  and  slipped  from  the  doctor's  grasp 
to  the  ground,  where  she  lay  writhing  almost  like  an  epi- 
leptic. The  doctor  watched  her  for  a  moment ;  then 
dragging  her  into  the  middle  of  the  grassy  road,  where 


224  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


she  could  not  hurt  herself,  he  left  her,  and  hastened  on 
to  the  pretty  little  clearing  upon  the  hill  rising  from  the 
hanks  of  the  placid  river  so  often  referred  to,  where  Icha- 
bod  English  had  built  a  house  and  carried  home  a  bride 
some  years  before.  This  bride  was  Acsah  Ring,  the 
last  surviving  child,  save  one,  of  Ansel  Ring  and  Molly 
Peach ;  and  when  she,  left  quite  destitute  at  her  mother's 
death,  was  so  fortunate  as  to  attract  the  attention  of  the 
young  stranger  just  arrived  from  over  seas  to  settle  in 
Plymouth,  people  said  that  mother  Crewe's  curse  was 
worn  out,  and  that  one,  at  least,  of  Molly  Peach's  chil- 
dren was  to  prosper  and  be  happy. 
But  now ! 

The  kitchen  door  lay  wide  open  to  the  sunshine 
which  succeeded  the  storm  of  the  previous  night,  and 
on  the  millstone  step  sat  a  shepherd  dog,  his  nose  up- 
raised, howling  fearfully  ;  near  at  hand  a  cat,  with  bris- 
tling fur,  expanded  tail,  and  great  glaring  green  eyes, 
wandered  restlessly  up  and  down,  occasionally  licking 
her  chops  in  a  nervous  kind  of  fashion,  and  uttering  a 
distressful  yowl. 

Doctor  LeBaron,  who  studied  animals  as  keenly  as 
he  did  men  and  Nature,  looked  at  both  these,  and  his 
healthy  cheek  grew  pale. 

"Something  fearful  has  come  this  way,"  said  he 
aloud,  and  pushing  past  the  dog,  who  looked  at  him  and 
ceased  howling,  he  passed  into  the  kitchen,  which  was 
ciean  and  empty,  and  through  it  to  the  sitting-room, 
then  to  the  parlor,  and  at  last  to  the  great  sunny  bed- 
room, where  some  six  months  before  he  had  attended 
Acsah  and  her  last  baby. 

At  the  door  he  stopped,  and  clung  to  the  casing  in 
utter  amazement  and  horror.     Upon  the  bed  lay  the 


A  SCENE  OF  HORROR. 


225 


mother  with  the  baby  in  her  arms,  both  dead,  while  the 
Bcarlet  stain  upon  their  night-robes  told  what  death  they 
had  died.  On  the  floor,  upon  a  blanket  spread,  in  the 
ghastly  irony  of  insanity,  to  protect  their  little  forma 
from  the  hard  floor,  lay  three  children,  Molly,  and 
Neddie,  and  Dorcas,  their  pretty  faces  calm  and  white, 
their  little  limbs  straightened,  and  their  hands  folded 
each  upon  its  breast,  above  the  wound  that  had  let  their 
young  lives  out. 

At  a  table,  his  body  fallen  forward  across  it,  his  dead 
fingers  crisped  upon  a  pistol  resting  upon  his  knee,  lay 
Ichabod  English,  the  husband  and  father  of  those 
around  him,  and  from  whom  he  had  now  forever 
divided  himself. 

For  some  moments  Doctor  LeBaron  stood  staring  at 
this  scene  with  incredulous  horror,  every  faculty  frozen 
in  awful  amazement.  He  was  aroused  by  the  dog,  who 
had  quietly  followed  him  in,  and  stood  expectant  of 
some  help  to  those  he  loved ;  finding  that  none  came, 
he  turned  upon  the  intruder  with  a  savage  growl  and  a 
grim  bark,  that  said  as  plainly  as  words :  "  Help  them, 
or  you  shall  be  as  they !  " 

The  man  understood,  for  there  are  moments  when 
reason  and  instinct  need  no  words  to  interpret  each  to 
each,  and,  rousing  himself,  he  muttered :  — 

"  Yes,  Jack,  yes,  but  it 's  only  too  sure !  "  and  taking 
off  his  hat  he  passed  into  the  room,  carefully  skirting 
the  blanket  so  precisely  laid,  and  leaning  over  the  bed 
drew  aside  the  linen  from  the  mother's  breast.  A  little 
wound,  accurately  delivered  at  the  precise  point  to  in- 
sure instantaneous  death,  both  sure  and  deep ;  another 
through  the  baby's  tender  bosom,  and  still  its  soft  mouth 
bore  the  curve  of  baby  fright  and  pain,  although  the 


226  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


eyes  were  closed  as  if  In  sleep.  The  mother's  face  boro 
no  impress  of  terror,  and  both  face  and  limbs  had  been 
carefully  composed  to  decent  rest  soon  after  death  ;  but 
as  the  hours  went  on,  there  had  grown  upon  that  face, 
as  we  most  of  us  have  watched  expressions  grow  upon 
the  faces  of  our  dead,  a  faint  smile  of  awful  meaning ; 
a  smile  of  pity  and  of  wonder,  of  yearning  love,  and  yet 
of  eternal  farewell;  a  smile  which  told  more  of  the 
mysteries  beyond  the  veil  than  Death  often  reveals. 

The  doctor  drew  the  sheet  over  that  telltale  face, 
and  passed  to  the  children,  then  to  the  father ;  but  as  he 
examined  the  pistol  wound  through  the  right  temple, 
and  saw  that  the  fingers  so  tightly  clenched  in  death 
must  have  taken  their  grasp  in  life,  his  face  grew  stern 
and  hard. 

"  It  is  his  own  work  —  and  they  too ! 

Upon  the  table,  close  beside  the  pistol  lay,  a  thick  let- 
ter, held  in  place  by  a  sharp  and  slender  dagger  of  Ital- 
ian make,  pierced  through  it  to  the  table.  The  handle 
had  been  a  cross,  but  Ichabod  English  was  a  Cove- 
nanter, and  so  hated  the  emblem,  which  to  him  meant 
not  Christ,  but  the  Pope,  that  he  had  mutilated  it  be- 
yond recognition  ;  and  the  shadow  which  fell  from  it 
across  his  fallen  head  resembled  more  an  accusing 
finger  than  the  cross  whereby  the  penitent  robber  was 
pardoned  and  saved  even  at  the  eleventh  hour. 

This  letter  was  superscribed  in  a  bold  and  steady 
hand, 

To 

Doctor  Lazarus  LeBaron 
These. 

And  with  great  surprise  the  doctor  drew  out  the 
dagger,  and  carried  the  pierced  letter  into  the  open  air 
to  read. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


THE  LETTER. 

Doctor  LeBaron,  —  It  seems  to  me  probable  that 
you  will  be  the  first  person  of  responsibility  and  author- 
ity called  to  witness  the  work  I  mean  to  accomplish 
this  day,  and  I  therefore  address  to  you  some  explana- 
tion of  a  course  which  you  naturally  will  condemn,  but 
yet  one  which  I  am  fain  to  believe  God  will  approve. 

You  know,  as  do  all  the  Fathers  of  Plymouth,  how  I 
have  striven,  since  I  came  among  you,  to  earn  an  honest 
livelihood,  and  to  live  decently  and  soberly  before  God 
and  man ;  but  as  you  may  not  know,  there  are  those  who 
come  into  the  world  under  a  curse,  and  whose  most 
strenuous  exertions  do  not  deliver  them  therefrom.  My 
mind  has  been  much  exercised  of  late  upon  the  doctrine 
of  predestination,  and  whether  indeed  some  men  are 
born  to  reprobation,  as  Calvin  holds  and  Pastor  Robbins 
teaches.  If  it  be  so  I,  as  one  of  the  reprobate,  am  only 
damned  the  deeper  by  my  efforts  to  intrude  upon  those 
good  works  reserved  for  the  elect,  and  can  be  no  worse 
off  in  another  world  by  taking  the  ready  way  out  of 
this,  and  if  God  indeed  be  such  a  God,  I  know  not  that 
I  greatly  care  though  I  banish  myself  forever  from  his 
presence. 

"  Howbeit,  I  will  not  consume  your  time  in  polemical 
discussion,  and  will  the  more  willingly  leave  it  that 
since  many  days  I  feel  some  strange  distemper  in  my 


228  DR,  leBaron  and  his  daughters. 


head,  which  confuses  my  intellect;  indeed, what  man 
can  consider  matters  of  depth  while  foul  birds  clap 
their  wings  incessantly  within  his  brain,  and  the  sound 
of  many  waters  about  to  engulf  him  warns  him  to  save 
himself,  but  yet  without  an  ark  ?  One  says  Hasten,  and 
I  obey ;  though  as  he  is  ever  behind  me  I  cannot  tell 
who  he  may  be,  yet  I  obey. 

"  I  have  striven  to  live,  I  have  been  willing  to  labor,  I 
have  toiled  night  and  day,  and  have  prayed  —  yes, 
prayed,  doubtless  to  mine  own  condemnation,  being,  as 
I  have  said,  reprobate  and  lost ;  but  the  little  children 
and  their  mother  are  of  the  elect :  that,  even  this  one 
dares  not  deny  —  and  does  not. 

"  My  money  is  all  spent,  my  debts  are  pressing,  the 
day  of  hope  is  past,  and  I  can  work  no  more,  for  the 
birds  who  blind  mine  eyes  and  confuse  my  brain  with 
the  whirring  of  their  wings.  I  must  die,  there  is  no 
possibility  left  of  life ;  yet,  while  I  hold  it,  life  is  all  I 
have,  my  sole  possession  —  it  is  mine  own,  and  I  have 
the  right  to  mine  own. 

Now,  then,  I  will,  I  will  think  —  you  shall  not  come 
between  me  and  the  page  again  —  stand  there  behind 
and  wait  —  I  will  explain  myself  before  I  heed  your 
call,  I  will  justify  myself  to  this  man,  with  the  quiet 
keen  eyes,  who  has  sometimes  looked  at  me  as  though 
he  saw  the  birds,  or  —  there,  there  ! 

I  have  a  right  to  my  own  life,  and  I  am  going  to  take 
it.  I  hold  myself  responsible  for  the  lives  of  these 
children,  and  I  will  not  abandon  them  to  starvation  and 
the  cruel,  cruel  world  that  has  driven  me  out  of  its  doors. 
I  shall  take  them  with  me,  the  poor  little  ones,  my  brave 
boy,  my  pretty  little  maids ;  yes  they  shall  come  with 
their  dad,  who  never  spoke  a  word  awry  to  any  of 


THE  LETTER. 


229 


them,  but  while  I  thought  of  it  all  last  night,  I  determined 
that  Acsah  should  have  her  baby,  lest  she  be  too  deso- 
late —  no,  I  have  no  right  to  Acsah's  life  :  I  did  not  give 
it,  I  am  not  responsible  for  it,  I  will  not  decide  for  her ; 
perhaps  she  will  see  it  right  to  follow  by  the  same  road, 
and  I  will  leave  her  the  baby  lest  she  should  feel  too 
desolate ;  the  little  nursing  baby  will  comfort  her ;  so 
this  morning  I  have  prepared,  oh,  so  wisely,  so  carefully, 
80  gently,  yes,  the  one  behind  the  chair  arranged  it  all, 
and  put  it  in  between  the  birds  into  my  head,  yes,  I 
sent  the  man  to  the  mill,  and  ordered  him  to  wait  until 
all  his  corn  was  ground,  and  that 's  all  day  at  Jenney's 
mill,  and  I  told  Acsah  I  saw  she  was  tired  and  heavy- 
hearted,  and  she  should  go  to  spend  the  day  with  her  aunt 
and  take  her  baby  to  see  its  grandam,  as  she  calls  herself, 
and  when  she  fain  would  tarry  with  me,  rather  than 
have  any  other  company,  I  put  on  a  stern  air  and  said 
I  chose  to  have  it  so,  and  she,  poor  woman,  threw  her 
arms  around  me  and  cried,  —  no,  no,  I  had  better  forget 
all  that  —  yes,  she  went,  and  left  all  sorts  of  charges 
with  the  maid  what  she  was  to  do  for  my  comfort,  and 
bade  the  children  be  good  and  not  worry  poor  dad,  who 
was  very  tired,  yes,  I  heard  her,  I  heard  her  from  be- 
hind the  door  where  I  hid  to  look  my  last  on  her,  but 
at  length  she  went,  and  no  sooner  had  the  sound  of  the 
horse*s  feet  died  away  than  I  called  the  maid  and  said 
I  had  changed  my  mind,  and  should  take  the  children 
and  go  away,  and  she  might  have  the  day  with  her  own 
people ;  it  made  me  laugh  all  inside  my  head,  to  think 
how  I  told  her  no  lie,  for  indeed  I  would  go  away  and 
take  the  children,  no  lie,  no,  for  I  am  an  honorable  man, 
yes,  and  a  good  father,  but  she  went  with  wonder  in 
her  eyes,  still  she  went,  and  now  all  is  ready,  I  have  the 


230   DR,  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS, 


curious  knife  the  Italian  sailor  sold  me  long  ago,  oh  in 
some  other  life  which  I  have  all  hut  forgotten,  and  I 
have  made  it  very  sharp  —  what  —  what  noise  is  that  ?  " 

The  manuscript  broke  off  abruptly  with  a  blot,  as  if 
the  pen  had  fallen  on  the  paper,  and  began  again  as 
abruptly. 

^'  She  has  come  back,  Acsah  and  the  baby  come  back, 
come  back  —  she  says  she  was  all  but  at  home  when 
something,  she  knew  not  what,  came  over  her  and  forced 
her  to  turn  back  —  she  cried,  poor  Acsah,  and  said  she 
came  because  she  must  come,  she  had  no  choice  but 
come,  and  then  she  cried  again,  and  asked  why  did  I 
look  so  strange,  and  why  had  I  put  the  children  in  their 
night  gear  when  it  was  hardly  afternoon,  and  then  came 
the  storm,  and  in  the  wind  came  voices.  I  knew  one  of 
them  right  well,  for  it  is  whispering,  whispering  always 
at  my  back,  wait,  wait  now  until  I  can  finish,  I  must 
write  to  my  friend  the  doctor  with  the  quiet  ej^es  for  he 
will  understand,  he  will  see  that  when  she  was  forced  to 
come  back,  and  that  not  by  birds,  or  by  It,  for  she  is  a 
good  woman,  and  one  of  God's  elect,  it  shows  that  God 
will  have  her  go  with  me  —  no  doubt  her  tender  heart 
would  break  in  the  horror  of  it,  her  little  Molly,  and 
stout  Neddie,  and  grave  pretty  Dorcas,  yes,  she  could  not 
let  them  go  and  stay  behind,  and  she  must  go  too,  and  if 
there  is  sin  in  it  as  by  moments  I  guess,  it  is  better  to  be 
on  me  the  reprobate,  than  her  the  elect,  and  so  perhaps 
damn  her  to  my  abode,  —  no,  she  shall  die  as  guiltless 
as  the  baby  at  her  breast,  and  I  will  take  her  first,  that 
she  may  not  see  the  little  ones  die  —  I  will  contrive  it  all 
so  gently,  so  gently  and  tenderly,  for  I  am  a  good  hus- 
band and  a  good  father,  and  would  be  a  good  man  had  I 
been  born  so  that  I  could  be,  and  yet  predestination 


THE  LETTER. 


231 


argues  that  those  predestined  to  be  damned  can  do 
neither  good  nor  harm,  for  they  have  no  free  will  — 
there  there  there,  flap  your  wings  and  whiz  and  buzki 
and  whisper  all  you  will,  I  won't  be  hurried,  I  won't 
give  way  and  frighten  her  —  no,  no,  whatever  comes  I 
will  be  as  gentle  and  as  tender  —  oh,  Acsah  darling, 
indeed  and  indeed  it  is  for  the  best  or  you  would  not 
have  come  back,  well,  well  I  will  not  delay,  let  me  but 
sign  my  name,  for  I  never  yet  did  work  I  was  ashamed 
to  set  my  name  to,  I  am  an  honest  man  and  an  honor- 
able. 

IcHABOD  English.'* 

And  never  had  the  unhappy  man  signed  his  name 
more  boldly  or  more  firmly  than  in  this  last  moment 
of  his  piteous  clinging  to  some  semblance  of  reason. 

How  the  end  came  none  may  know,  and  yet  one  feels 
that  the  habit  and  the  instinct  of  gentleness  and  tender- 
ness so  constantly  claimed  did  not  desert  him  at  the  last, 
and  that  the  tragedy  was  completed  without  terror  to 
the  victims.  Possibly  Acsah  may  have  been  put  to 
sleep,  since  opium  was  found  in  the  house,  and  it  was 
suspected  that  English  was  a  victim  to  its  abuse.  That 
quiet  face  looked  Hke  one  who  had  died  in  sleep,  but  only 
God  and  the  spirits  of  good  and  evil  know  more  than  is 
here  set  down. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 


ELIZABETH  BOBBINS'  LETTER  HOME. 

"  Good-morning,  monsieur  le  Cur^ !  " 

"  Good-morning,  monsieur  le  Docteur !  " 

And  their  mild  little  quotidian  jest  exchanged,  the 
two  men  laughed  in  the  idle,  friendly  fashion  of  men 
who  meet  too  often  to  have  anything  very  startling  to 
say  at  any  one  time. 

"  Are  you  ready  to  set  out  for  Oberry  ?  "  pursued  the 
doctor. 

"  All  ready.  Eleven  o'clock  was  the  hour  for  the 
marriage,  I  believe." 

*'Yes,  and  the  feast  at  noon.  My  girls,  Pris  and 
Margot,  are  going  up  in  the  wagon  under  convoy  of 
Quasho." 

"Ah,  yes.  Margaret  is  fond  of  these  little  French 
maids,  I  believe." 

"  Yes,  she  inherits  a  marvelous  aptitude  for  my 
father's  language,  and  enjoys  the  opportunity  of  speak- 
ing it.  Here  is  the  chaise ;  will  you  step  in  fiist,  Par- 
son >  " 

"  I 'm  obliged  to  you,  sir." 

And  Mr.  Robbins,  with  a  ceremonious  bow,  stepped 
past  the  doctor  and  seated  himself  in  the  chaise.  A 
handsome  man,  in  the  early  maturity  of  life,  with  a  re- 
fined and  aristocratic  face,  eloquent  dark  eyes,  and  a 
mouth  that  suggested  some  possible  tendency  toward 


ELIZABETH  BOBBINS*  LETTER  HOME.  233 


the  savory  flesh-pots  of  Egypt ;  just  enough,  perhaps,  to 
give  ground  for  those  victories  of  the  spirit  over  the 
flesh  by  which  the  saints  are  perfected.  A  genial  man 
in  private  life,  a  courteous  gentleman,  a  scholar  won- 
derful for  his  time,  and  an  honor  to  his  Alma  Mater  of 
Yale ;  so  tender  a  husband  that  his  wife  mourned  her- 
self to  death  in  a  few  months  after  his  decease,  and  a 
father  greatly  beloved  both  by  his  natural  and  his  spir- 
itual children,  Chandler  Robbins  had  lived  like  many 
another  good  man  to  serene  old  age,  and  been  like  them 
forgotten  of  a  world  careless  of  those  in  whom  it  can 
find  no  fault,  but  for  a  dark  shadow,  which,  falling 
athwart  his  life  like  a  bend  sinister  across  an  azure 
shield,  makes  more  vivid  the  heavenly  tint,  and  yet  de- 
tracts from  its  completeness.  It  was  the  shadow  of 
John  Calvin,  that  spiritual  ogre  who  stood  between  so 
many  souls  and  God's  sunshine,  and  preached  the  wrath 
and  vengeance  of  a  monstrous  and  impossible  Deity  upon 
those  who,  innocent  of  any  voluntary  disobedience,  were 
to  be  damned,  with  no  place  of  repentance,  to  eternal 
torments  "  whose  smoke  ascends  forever  and  ever,  a 
grateful  incense  to  the  nostrils  of  the  Almighty ; "  for 
such  was  the  enthusiastic  gloss  passed  upon  Calvin'g 
doctrine  by  his  disciple  Hopkins,  whose  severities  Pastor 
Robbins  admired  and  assumed  to  himself,  and  such  was 
the  teaching  that,  meeting  his  temporal  misfortunes  in 
the  mind  of  Ichabod  English,  overthrew  its  poise  and 
drove  him  to  his  awful  deed. 

But  to-day  the  pastor  goes  to  marry  pretty  Alix 
Bergeron  to  her  faithful  lover,  Jean  Daudin,  who  has 
made  a  voyage  or  two  since  the  day  Philip  de  Montar- 
naud  slipped  a  gold  piece  into  the  bride's  hand  with 
"  Pour  ton  trousseau,  ma  petite,"  and  now  a  little  cottage 


234  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


is  ready,  and  plenished  with  such  household  gear  as 
was  rescued  in  that  sad  wreck  of  the  home  at  Grand 
Pr^,  or  wrought  since  hy  the  wheels  and  loom  of  the 
busy  family  ;  and  to-day  is  St.  Martin's  Day  again,  and 
fair  and  sweet  as  was  that  other  St.  Marthi  s  Day,  and 
the  wagon,  with  Priscilla  and  Margaret  LeBaron  and 
little  Jennie  E-obbins,  their  pet  and  plaything,  bowls 
merrily  along,  driven  by  Quasho,  who  entertains  his 
young  ladies  with  story,  jest,  and  song  to  the  best  of 
his  wonderful  ability. 

A  little  in  advance  nods  and  sways  the  chaise,  con- 
taining the  two  fathers,  and  the  doctor  is  saying :  — 

"  We  had  letters  from  Elizabeth  last  night  by  the 
hand  of  some  gentleman  traveling  from  Norfolk  to 
Boston,  who  was  so  obliging  as  to  hand  them  to  the 
master  of  the  packet.  Have  you  heard  from  your 
brother  lately  ?  " 

No.  I  suppose,  what  with  his  duties  to  his  parish 
and  his  household  and  his  studies  he  finds  but  little  time 
for  correspondence.  He  wrote  me  of  the  birth  of  the 
chnd.'' 

Yes,  Elizabeth  is  very  cock-a-hoop  over  her  new 
honors.  Stay,  here  is  her  letter  to  Pris,  who  handed  it 
to  me  just  as  I  left  the  house.  Will  you  read  it  out 
for  our  mutual  benefit  ?  " 

"  If  it  is  no  breach  of  confidence." 

"  Oh,  no  ;  Pris  said 't  was  '  the  minister's  wife  '  that 
wrote." 

"  And  I  am  glad  my  sister-in-law  feels  within  her- 
self the  obligations  of  a  minister's  wife,''  said  Mr.  Rob- 
bins,  rather  severely  ;  but  as  the  doctor  only  smiled  in 
reply,  he  unfolded  the  little  sheet  of  coarse  English 
paper,  and  read  :  — 


ELIZABETH  ROBBINS'  LETTER  HOME.  235 


Norfolk,  September  11th. 

Very  Sister.  It  feems  very  malloncolly  to  me 
Sometimes  When  I  think  of  our  Situation  tow  loveing 
Sifters  as  we  are  Separated  at  Such  a  great  diftance  from 
each  other.  I  was  in  Some  hopes  of  your  comeing  up 
this  fall  to  tarry  thro  the  Winter  but  dont  know  but  it 
wou^  be  two  hard  for  D""  Father.  I  want  exceedingly  to 
See  you  all  efpecially  Father  Shou^  have  gone  down  this 
fall  had  it  not  been  that  I  have  a  nursing  Baby  but 
hope  two  next  Spring  —  I  feel  much  Concerned  about 
yow  Priffe  for  we  have  no  mother  tho  a  tender 
father  hope  you  mind  his  pious  Inftruction  o  my  D' 
Sister  let  me  recomend  to  you  Early  Piety  above  every- 
thing as  the  Onely  Sure  foundation  of  comfort  in  this 
life  and  the  Onely  foundation  of  hope  When  We  come 
to  die  don't  let  the  Vanities  of  this  empty  World  take 
up  all  your  Heart  remember  that  going  alone  before 
god  and  fpreading  out  the  heart  there  has  been  of  happy 
effect  to  Some  —  we  are  all  well  Ammi  is  a  little  Fat 
hansome  Boy  Sister  Sally  has  been  here  about  2  months 
is  now  going  home  With  her  Brother  —  Mr  Robbins 
wou^  join  in  Love  to  all  the  family  and  to  Brother  and 
Sifter  Bobbins  —  I  subscribe  your 

moft  tender  affectionate  Sifter, 

Eliz*^  Robbins. 

Regards  to  D""  Betfy  Fofter  Molley  and  Nancy  May- 
hew,  Becca  Fuller  and  other  Friends. 

"  Yes,  very  pleasant,  very  satisfactory,"  remarked 
the  pastor,  folding  the  letter  and  handing  it  back. 

Elizabeth  seems  a  little  homesick,  but  it  is  doubtless 
a  consolation  to  be  able  to  write  so  fluently  and  well. 
I  do  not  myself  see  any  evil  in  teaching  the  humanities 


236  DR.  Lebaron  and  his  daughters. 


to  girk  as  well  as  boys.  I  fully  intend  my  little  Jennie 
there  shall  read  and  write  and  cipher  as  well  as  her 
brothers,  and  not  be  restricted  to  her  sampler,  catechism, 
and  Bible  as  so  many  girls  are." 

"  You  do  not  agree  with  old  Father  Cobb,  then,  who, 
when  I  asked  him  to  join  with  some  of  us  in  hiring  for 
our  girls  a  teacher  somewhat  more  advanced  than  Mis- 
tress Tabitha  Plaskett  and  her  compeers,  replied  to  the 
effect  that  the  world  would  have  come  to  a  pretty  pass 
when  wives  and  daughters  should  look  over  the  shoul- 
ders of  their  husbands  and  fathers  as  they  wrote,  and 
offer  to  correct  such  errors  in  spelling  as  they  might 
see  fit  to  commit." 

"  Ha !  I  fancy  spelling  was  a  tender  subject  with 
gran'sir  Cobb,"  laughed  Robbins,  "  and  Mistress  Ammi 
Euhama  Robbins  could  have  set  him  right  more  than 
once." 

"  Yes,  she  spells  well  enough,"  replied  the  doctor, 
well  pleased,  especially  as  there  seems  no  hard  and 
fast  rule  about  the  matter.  Most  persons  vary  their 
spelling  of  the  same  word  according  to  their  mood  or 
fancy." 

"  Even  my  friend  the  Rev.  John  Newton,  rector  of 
Olney,  near  London,  with  whom  I  have  much  spiritual 
delight  in  correspondence,  will  now  and  again  indulge 
himself  in  certain  vagaries  of  that  sort,  but  the  soul  or 
animus  of  his  epistles  never  falters  or  checks  ;  and  after 
all  it  is  the  spirit  that  maketh  alive,  and  the  letter  that 
kiUeth." 

"  And  yet.  Parson,  it  seems  to  me  as  if  it  were  well 
for  us  if  we  did  not  stick  quite  so  close  to  the  letter,  but 
gave  way  more  to  the  spirit  at  times.  Poor  Lyddy 
Cernish,  for  instance,  in  her  mortal  sickaess  cravingly 


ELIZABETH  BOBBINS'  LETTER  HOME.  237 


desired  to  be  admitted  to  the  church,  and  to  partake  of 
the  Last  Supper  of  the  Lord  ;  and  because  the  poor  soul 
was  too  feeble  to  leave  her  bed  and  personally  appear  in 
the  church,  she  was  refused,  and  died  incommunicate. 
It  was  indeed  the  letter  that  killed  there." 

"  I  was  willing,''  exclaimed  the  pastor,  much  dis- 
turbed. "  I  took  down  her  Relation  and  Confession  of 
Sin  and  read  them  to  the  church,  and  we  restored  her 
to  charity ;  but  two  of  the  deacons  were  very  bitter  in 
opposition  to  breaking  the  rule,  and  the  gentler  counsels 
were  overborne.  Still,  her  children,  you  know,  were  ad- 
mitted to  baptism." 

"  Yes,  and  under  the  Halfway  Covenant  they  would 
have  been  so  without  question,  since  their  parents  were 
baptized." 

*'  Oh,  that  Halfway  Covenant !  "  cried  Robbins,  bit- 
terly ;  "  that  notable  contrivance  of  Satan  to  ensnare 
souls,  and  cry  to  them.  Peace  !  Peace !  where  there  is 
no  peace !  It  makes  me  quiver  with  terror  to  see  per- 
sons sitting  down  at  the  Lord's  Table,  and  counting 
themselves  of  His  elect,  whose  baptism  lies  under  such 
grievous  disability." 

"  Parson  Leonard  admitted  all  to  baptism  whose 
parents  were  baptized,  whether  they  were  church  mem- 
bers or  not,"  replied  the  doctor,  gravely.  "  He  held  that 
the  two  sacraments  were  so  conjoined  that  one  receiving 
baptism  was  already  in  the  grace  of  communion,  and 
her  child  had  birthright  to  membership  in  the  church, 
and  to  baptism  as  its  first  step." 

I  know  he  did,  and  I  confess  to  you,  brother,  that  I 
have  had  great  searchings  of  heart  as  to  how  he  shall  ren- 
der account  of  his  stewardship.  It  is  a  fearful,  yes,  an 
awful  thing  to  be  put  in  charge  of  the  souls  for  whom 


238  DR,  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


Christ  died,  and  if  the  shepherd  himself  opens  the  door 
of  the  fold  to  the  wolf — 

"  '  To  his  own  Master  he  stand  or  falls,'  "  interrupted 
the  doctor,  with  that  tact  which  will  not  let  a  friend 
utter  words  which  he  might  regret  speaking. 

Yes,  —  '  to  his  own  Master  he  stands  or  falls,'  " 
dreamily  repeated  Robbins.  "And  so  with  you  and 
me  as  well  as  with  Nathaniel  Leonard,  ^  It  is  a  fearful 
thing  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  living  God,'  and  few, 
few  indeed  shall  be  saved." 

"  Parson,  what  motive,  think  you,  had  God  Almighty 
in  the  creation  of  man  ?  " 

"  He  created  them  for  His  own  glory,  as  doubtless  you 
learned  in  your  catechism." 

"  Yes,  but  is  not  He  the  fountain  of  all  wisdom  ?  " 

"  Surely." 

^'And  of  all  love?'* 

«  Doubtless." 
And  power,  since  by  it  He  combined  the  atoms 
already  existent,  and  vivified  them  into  His  creature 
man?" 

"  Of  course,  but  what "  — 

"  One  moment,  and  you  will  see.  Is  it  logical  to  say 
that  the  failure  of  His  own  work  gives  glory  to  God's 
wisdom  ?  " 

"  Rather  to  His  justice." 

"  Is  then  His  justice  incompatible  with  wisdom  ?  " 
"  God  forbid." 

"  But  you  believe  that  under  the  conditions  of  their 
being  most  men  are  born  but  to  be  damned." 

"  Under  the  conditions  of  their  fall  in  Adam." 

"  But  Calvin  teaches,  and  since  him  Hopkins,  that 
Adam  was  predestinate  to  fall,  thus  making  God  the 


ELIZABETH  ROBBINS'  LETTER  HOME.  239 


Author  of  sin  ;  and  so  before  the  first  man  was  made,  the 
race  created  by  God's  wisdom  and  love  were  predes- 
tinate by  His  power  to  damnation." 
"  Except  the  elect/' 

"  Except  the  elect,  and  they  chosen  out,  not  for  their 
virtues,  not  for  their  penitence,  not  for  their  faith  or 
for  their  works,  but  by  an  arbitrary  appointment  of 
God/' 

"  Doctor  LeBaron,  you  blaspheme  "  — 

"Indeed  I  do  not,  Mr.  Bobbins.  No  man  living 
holds  his  Maker  in  more  reverence  and  love  than  I  do  ; 
but  I  cannot  with  you  place  John  Calvin  and  his  disciples 
next  to  God  in  my  allegiance,  and  if  you  will  take  it  from 
a  man  old  enough  to  be  your  father,  I  think  you  would  be 
a  happier,  yes,  and  a  more  useful  man  if  you  did  not  do 
so,  either." 

"  You  are  indeed  an  older  man.  Doctor,  and  we  have 
taken  sweet  counsel  together,  and  walked  in  the  house 
of  God  as  friends,  and  yet  I  must  believe  you  to  be  in 
grievous  error.  In  my  belief  John  Calvin  was  a  prophet 
commissioned  by  God  to  declare  his  truth,  and  the  Five 
Points  as  set  forth  by  him  are  to  me  of  equal  impor* 
tance  with  any  precept  of  the  New  Testament." 

"  The  Five  Points  !  Do  they  marry  well  with  the  Ser- 
mon on  the  Mount  ?  " 

"  They  do  in  the  Mind  of  God,  although  your  mind 
may  not  have  grasp  enough  for  more  than  one  aspect  of 
the  question." 

"H'm.  Election,  including  of  course  reprobation, 
means  that  from  all  eternity  some  souls  are  predesti^ 
nate  to  salvation  for  no,  merit  of  their  own,  and  some  to 
damnation  for  no  fault  of  their  own.  Redemption,  that 
is  the  saving  of  the  souls  of  the  elect  through  the  Atone- 


240    DR.  Le BARON  AND  HIS  DAUGHTERS, 


ment  of  Christ ;  but  this  saving  grace,  saddled  with  Par- 
ticular Redemption,  meaning  that  Christ  died  only  for 
the  elect,  and  His  death  is  of  no  efficacy  to  the  non- 
elect.  Then  the  Bondage  of  the  Will,  so  that  the  non- 
elect  have  no  power  of  repentance,  or  of  turning  to  God, 
or  of  conviction  of  sin  leading  to  confession  and  pardon." 

Esau  found  no  place  of  repentance,  though  he 
sought  it  bitterly  with  tears." 

"  I  know,  but  Holy  Writ  saith  not  that  he  found  none 
beyond  the  grave.  But  the  fourth  point  —  Irresistible 
Grace,  meaning  that  the  elect  cannot  resist  conversion, 
even  if  they  would  —  is,  to  be  sure,  a  comfortable  doctrine 
for  the  elect,  but  of  a  nature  to  paralyze  the  exertions 
of  one  who  feels  assured  that  no  efforts  of  his  own  can 
merit  this  grace,  and  no  sins  can  be  so  displeasing  to 
God  as  to  prevent  it  in  the  soul  of  the  elect.  And  then,  as 
if  to  clench  this,  comes  Final  Perseverance,  the  gift 
whereby  the  elect  become  impeccable  and  incapable  of 
falling  from  grace  ;  and  furthermore,  this  gift  being  with- 
held from  the  non-elect,  they  have  no  power  of  retain- 
ing any  good  they  may  receive  from  holy  teaching  or 
from  holy  baptism,  so  that  though  they  may  seem  to  live  a 
good  and  Christian  life  in  this  world,  all  merit  is  buried 
with  them  in  the  grave,  and  they  are  judged  even  more 
severely  at  the  last  for  having  as  it  were  cheated  them- 
selves and  their  fellows  here  below  by  a  simulacrum  of 
sanctity.  Now,  Parson,  do  you  call  this  exposition  of 
the  Councils  of  God,  —  Almighty  God,  who  so  loved  the 
world  that  He  gave  His  only  begotten  Son  to  die  for  its 
redemption,  —  do  you  call  it  as  consistent  with  Christ's 
showing  of  the  Father  as  is  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount, 
or  the  last  discourse,  as  given  by  John  the  Beloved 
Disciple 


ELIZABETH  BOBBINS'  LETTER  HOME.  241 


A  long  silence  ensued,  broken  only  by  the  sweet  non- 
sense of  the  little  birds  telling  each  other  that  summer 
had  come  back  and  it  was  almost  time  for  nesting,  and 
the  joyous  voices  with  laughter  borne  on  the  still  air 
from  the  merry  party  in  the  wagon.  At  last  the  parson 
said :  — 

"It  is  easy  enough  for  the  carnal  mind  to  become 
entangled  in  these  subtleties  of  reason,  or  rather  of  false 
doctrine,  and  it  is  thought  that  Satan  was  of  the  cheru- 
bim, those  blessed  spirits  who  derive  wisdom  from  the 
Almighty  as  their  especial  gift,  so  it  is  not  to  be  doubted 
that  he  can  even  now  plague  men's  minds  with  what  ap- 
pear to  be  sound  arguments  against  the  faith,  while  all 
the  time  they  are  mere  delusions  of  the  enemy." 

"  Why  not  turn  round  that  weapon,  and  try  its  point 
upon  the  Five  Points  ?  To  my  mind 't  will  prove  the 
sharpest,"  suggested  the  doctor ;  but  his  companion 
flushed  as  a  man  does  when  he  is  insulted. 

"  And  still  you  are  a  deacon  of  the  church,  Dr.  Le- 
Baron,"  said  he,  severely. 

"  A  deacon  of  the  Church  of  Christ,  but  not  of  the 
Church  of  Calvin,  any  more  than  that  of  Knox  or  of 
Luther,  —  nay,  nor  of  Rome,"  returned  the  doctor,  with 
animation.  "  Since  the  Separatists  cut  adrift  from  the 
old  ecclesiastical  system,  every  man  is  free  within  cer- 
tain limits  to  judge  for  himself ;  that  is  one  of  the  es- 
sential consequences  of  separation,  and  you  know  as 
well  as  I  what  the  almost  imperceptible  divergence  at 
their  source  of  two  straight  lines  leads  to  in  the  end. 
I  claim  to  be  a  thoroughly  sound  Christian  and  church 
member,  however  unworthy  as  an  individual  soul ;  but 
I  differ  from  the  belief  of  John  Calvin,  and  in  many 
points  I  differ  from  you,  and  I  know  men  in  this  town 


242    DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


who  differ  from  all  of  us,  yet  what  is  to  be  said  ?  We 
have  the  open  Bible,  we  have  private  judgment,  we 
have  liberty  of  conscience,  (although  you  say  no  liberty 
of  will),  and  we  are  free  to  diverge,  each  one  as  con- 
science guides  him.  I  tell  you.  Parson,  the  world  does 
not  stand  still  one  instant,  and  this  movement  begun 
some  two  hundred  years  since  in  England  will  go  on, 
until  Christians  who  could  not  endure  the  tyranny  of 
King,  or  rather  Bishop  Stork,  will  run  riot  under  some 
yet  unborn  King  Log  unable  even  to  defend  himself/' 

"  I  know  that  the  leaven  of  discontent  and  rebellion 
is  working  in  this  town,'*  said  the  minister,  bitterly. 

"  And  not  only  in  matters  ecclesiastical,"  replied  the 
doctor,  in  a  lighter  tone.  "  Our  good  mother  of  Eng- 
land will  have  to  change  her  policy  right  speedily,  or 
she  will  find  that  her  big  boy  over  here  is  too  stalwart 
to  be  laid  across  her  knee  any  longer.  He  begins  to 
demand  respect  and  consideration  even  from  liis  par- 
ents.'' 

"  One  would  suppose  that  the  Colonies'  emphatic  re- 
jection of  the  Stamp  Act  would  have  sufficed  as  a  hint 
to  the  old  mother,"  said  E-obbins,  entering  with  an  air 
of  relief  upon  the  new  topic. 

"  The  English  mind  is  not  very  quick  at  imbibing 
new  ideas,  or  in  perceiving  when  it  is  best  to  abandon 
old  ones,"  and  a  little  French  smile  crept  across  the 
doctor's  thin  lips. 

"  Well,  we  are  as  English  as  they,"  replied  the  par- 
son, promptly.  "  And  in  the  course  of  a  century  and 
a  half  have  got  the  idea  of  liberty  so  thoroughly  worked 
into  our  heads  that  I  doubt  if  all  King  George's  armies 
would  suffice  to  knock  it  out." 

"  State  and  Church  are  indeed  divided  here,  are  they 


ELIZABETH  ROBBINS'  LETTER  HOME,  243 


not  ?  "  remarked  the  doctor  quietly.  "  You,  a  man  of 
peace,  are  all  but  ready  to  grasp  the  carnal  weapon  in 
defense  of  political  liberty,  but  you  call  in  John  Calvin, 
with  gyves  and  fetters  and  small  cords,  and  beg  him  to 
bind  you  fast  and  sure  in  such  slavery  of  the  soul  as  the 
Pope  never  dreamed  of  enforcing.  But  there,  I  have 
done.  Here  we  are  at  Bergeron's  ;  and  see  how  they 
have  trimmed  even  the  outside  of  the  house  with  gar- 
lands and  greenery.'' 

"  A  trifle  too  much  for  my  taste.  It  savors  of  Merry 
Mount  and  its  maypole.'' 

^'  Chut,  chut.  Parson  !  Claim  a  little  liberty  of  soul, 
and  rejoice  with  them  that  do  rejoice,  as  your  Bible 
bids  you.    Remember  the  Guest  at  Cana." 

So  Parson  Robbins  married  Jean  Daudin  and  Alix 
Bergeron,  in  phrases  of  such  pure  French  that  neither 
of  them  knew  what  he  was  saying ;  but  the  next  Sunday 
he  preached  a  sermon  of  such  severity,  that  it  was  long 
and  regretfully  remembered  by  the  more  liberal  part  of 
his  congregation,  especially  his  statement  that  he  con- 
sidered the  Five  Points  of  Calvinism  of  equal  weight 
with  any  part  of  the  New  Testament. 


CHAPTER  XXVIL 


SUCCATACH. 

Consider  Howland  slept  with  his  fathers  on  Bury- 
ing Hill,  and  Ruth  Bryant,  his  loving  wife,  had  meekly 
followed  him  thither.  You  may  see  their  stones  to-day, 
in  the  shadow  of  that  majestic  though  mistaken  monu- 
ment to  the  memory  of  John  Howland  the  Pilgrim, 
who  married  Elizabeth  Tilley,  and  not  Elizabeth, 
daughter  of  childless  Governor  Carver.  There  too 
may  you  see  a  plaintive  little  stone  to  the  memory  of 

Consider  son  to  Mr.  Consider 
and  Mrs.  Ruth  Howland, 
Aged  7  years. 

and  also  another,  of  which  we  will  speak  by  and  by. 
But  besides  those  who  lay  with  them  on  the  Hill,  Con- 
sider and  Ruth  had  several  children,  who  remained  in 
the  houses  at  its  foot,  and  principal  among  these  was 
Thomas  Southworth  Howland,  named  for  his  grand- 
father Thomas,  son  of  that  sweet  widow  Alice  South- 
worth,  who  with  her  two  boys  crossed  the  seas  to  marry 
her  first  love.  Governor  William  Bradford. 

But  although  Tom,  as  his  father  called  him  on  occa- 
sion of  that  notable  betrothal  of  Tom's  sister  Lucy  to 
Captain  Hammatt,  sometimes  got  his  whole  name,  his 
townsmen,  who  were  for.  the  most  part  his  kinsmen  as 


sue  CAT  ACE. 


245 


well,  were  generally  content  to  call  him  S'uth'ard,  and 
sometimes  Tom  S'uth'ard,  following  a  fashion  still  prev- 
alent in  Plymouth,  of  distinguishing  different  claim- 
ants of  one  family  name  by  the  middle  name,  so  that 
nothing  can  be  more  bewildering  to  a  visitor  of  to-day 
than  to  try  to  make  out  why  she  must  n't  gossip  about 
A  B  to  Y  Z,  until  some  one  exclaims :  "  Don't  you 
know  that  they  are  sisters  ?  They  are  both  daughters 
of  Mr.  X." 

"  Then  why  are  n't  they  both  called  Miss  X  ?  "  asks 
the  aggrieved  gossip. 

"  Oh,  there  are  three  A  Xes  in  town,  and  we  always 
speak  of  them  by  their  middle  names,"  is  the  reply,  and 
the  stranger  sighs  :  "  Oh,  carry  me  back  to  Kalamazoo, 
where  nobody  is  related  to  anybody,  and  nobody  has  any 
ancestors." 

But  to  return  to  our  sheep.  S'uth'ard  Howland, 
some  years  before  his  father's  death,  had  taken  to  wife 
Abiah,  daughter  of  Squire  Hovey,  so  called  because  he 
was  a  lawyer.  They  lived  in  a  house  between  Judge 
Lothrop's  and  that  built  by  Doctor  Francis  LeBaron, 
and  as  neither  Abiah  nor  S'uth'ard  could  look  out  of 
window  without  seeing  the  home  of  the  other,  the  match 
may  have  been  one  of  propinquity,  for  Abiah  was  not 
nearly  so  pretty  as  several  other  Plymouth  maids,  of 
her  age ;  not  pretty  at  all,  in  fact,  but,  what  is  better, 
she  was  very  good,  and  when  her  husband's  parents  died 
it  was  she  who  mothered  the  two  little  orphan  girls.  Ex- 
perience, commonly  called  Peddie,  and  Hannah,  who  in 
her  sweet  flower  of  beauty  divided  with  Priscilla  Le- 
Baron the  meed  of  "  fairest." 

Like  his  father,  S'uth'ard,  with  his  wife's  eificient  aid, 
kept  a  sort  of  amateur  hostelry  in  the  house  built  by 
Consider,  during  his  later  years,  on  North  Street,  next 


246   DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


below  the  comer  where  we  found  him  living  in  the  old 
home  of  his  father  Thomas.  And  here  we  may  assist 
at  a  little  family  council  held  beside  a  roaring  hickory 
fire,  pleasantly  illuminating  Mrs.  Rowland's  own  sit- 
ting-room, and  dispelling  the  chill  and  darkness  of  a 
December  twilight. 

At  one  corner  of  the  fireplace  sat  the  mistress,  spin- 
ning fine  flax  upon  the  wheel  once  used  by  Joanna 
Cole,  mother  of  Consider,  who  had  bequeathed  not 
only  this  wheel  and  both  houses  and  land  upon  Cole's 
Hill,  to  her  descendants,  but  also  her  good  old  English 
name,  a  favorite  in  the  family  to  this  day,  although 
sometimes  contracted  to  Joan. 

At  the  other  corner,  upon  the  high-backed  settle,  shield- 
ing them  from  the  wind  creeping  in  at  door  and  win- 
dow, cuddled  Peddie,  Hannah,  and  Priscilla  LeBaron, 
warming  their  toes  after  a  run  in  the  snow,  and  whis- 
pering secrets  of  state  in  each  other's  ears,  with  much 
giggling  and  smothered  exclamations  and  expostula- 
tions. 

A  big  brown  dog  lay  across  the  hearth,  keeping  an 
eye  upon  Priscilla,  whom  he  had  escorted  hither,  and 
intended  to  escort  home  in  good  time  for  tea,  or  rather 
supper,  as  both  he  and  she  called  it. 

Much  stamping  upon  the  doorstep,  a  robust  entrance 
with  a  slam  of  the  front  door  and  throwing  open  of 
that  of  the  sitting-room,  and  S'uth'ard  Howland  entered 
in  his  usual  breezy  and  somewhat  aggressive  fashion. 

"  See  here,  Abbie  !  I  've  got  something  to  show  you 
and  to  tell  you.  You  kittens  clear  yourselves  off  to  the 
kitchen,  and  plague  old  Rose's  life  out.  Priscilla's  lad 
is  waiting  out  there  —  scat !  " 

"  I  don't  believe  it  is  a  good  plan  to  speak  that  way 


SUCCATACH. 


247 


to  a  girl  as  young  as  Pris,  S'uth'ard,"  expostulated 
Abiah,  as  the  door  closed  behind  the  three  little  maids 
and  their  sweet  ripples  of  laughter. 

"  Don't  you  believe  it,  Abbie !  Girls  nowadays  are 
n't  what  they  were  while  you  and  I  were  the  age  cf 
these.  But  see  here,  you 've  heard  of  the  Old  Colony 
Club  ? '' 

"  Why,  yes  ;  have  they  asked  you  to  join  it  ?  " 

"  Not  they,  —  they  're  too  fine,  though  Edward  Wins- 
low  's  my  own  cousin,  and  Pelham  my  second,  and  the 
others  are  kith  if  not  kin.  But  what  I 'm  coming  at  is, 
they  are  going  to  celebrate  Forefathers'  Day,  the  22d 
of  December,  you  know,  and  they  want  we  should  get 
them  up  a  dinner  in  the  old  Forefathers'  fashion.  They 
want  to  come  to  us,  because  they  know  as  well  as  I  do 
that  when  they  talk  of  the  Forefathers  there  is  n't  a 
man-jack  among  them  that  can  claim  a  Mayflower 
name  as  I  can,  except  the  Winslows ;  and  though  I  may 
be  have  n't  spent  so  much  time  over  my  books,  and 
don't  always  wear  my  cambric  ruffles,  and  talk  like  a 
French  dancing-master,  as  some  of  them  do,  I 'm  old 
John  Rowland's  grandson,  and  they  know  it,  too." 

"  What  shall  we  have  for  dinner  ?  "  asked  Abiah's 
gentle  voice,  and  her  husband,  quieting  down  from  the 
fume  into  which  he  was  very  apt  to  talk  himself,  stared 
at  her  a  moment,  then,  pulling  a  paper  from  his  pocket, 
sat  down  beside  her,  and  smoothing  it  upon  his  knee 
began  studying  it  by  the  firelight,  while  he  said  :  — 

"  Oh,  that 's  all  made  out.  I  was  just  passing  their 
hall  up  there  in  Town  Square,  when  some  one  thumped 
on  the  window  fit  to  break  the  glass,  and  then  Tom 
Lothrop  came  pelting  down  the  stair,  and  begged  me 
civilly  enough  to  come  up  and  help  them ;  and  among 


248    DR,  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


us  we  drew  out  this  ticket,  —  bill  of  fare  they  call  it,  — 
and  I  took  a  copy  and  promised  we 'd  get  it  up ;  and 
they  asked  me  to  come  to  the  hall  and  spend  the  even- 
ing, and  I  said  I  would,  as  why  should  n't  I  ? 

"  You  should  surely,  if  you  like  it,  and  are  asked,"  re- 
plied Abiah,  quietly. 

"  And  Doctor  LeBaron  has  given  the  club  Governor 
Bradford's  own  chair,  that  came  to  him  with  his  second 
wife,  and  Isaac  Lothrop,  the  chairman,  is  to  sit  in  it. 
If  I 'd  belonged  to  the  club,  may  be  I  should  have  given 
our  old  John  Rowland  table  to  go  with  Bradford's 
chair." 

"  But  the  bill  of  fare,  husband ;  won't  you  read  it  out 
to  me  ?  " 

"  Why,  it 's  what  I  brought  it  home  for,  woman ! 
Only  you  talk  so  much.  Here  it  is  now,  in  nine 
courses :  — 

"  1.  A  large  baked  Indian  whortleberry  pudding. 

"  2.  A  dish  of  *  sauquetach  '  as  they  spell  it,  but  I  guess 
corn  and  beans  and  pork  and  chicken  spell  succatach 
any  day  in  the  year  ;  well  — 
3.  A  dish  of  boiled  clams. 

"  4.  A  dish  of  oysters  and  a  dish  of  codfish. 

"  5.  A  haunch  of  venison  roast  by  the  first  jack  brought 
to  the  Colony,  —  I  forget  whose  it  is,  but  no  matter. 

"  6.  A  dish  of  sea-fowl. 

"  7.  A  dish  of  frostfish  and  eels. 
8.  An  apple  pie. 

"9.  A  course  of  cranberry  tarts  and  cheese  made  in 
the  Old  Colony. 

"There,  Abbie,  that 's  a  regular  old  Forefathers'  din- 
ner, is  n't  it  ?  Oh,  and  Isaac  Lothrop  says  we  must 
have  five  grains  of  parched  corn  beside  each  plate,  be* 


SUCCATACR, 


249 


cause  in  the  old  times  there  was  a  famine,  and  five  grains 
of  corn  was  the  allowance  for  every  soul  for  a  day." 

"  It  is  a  marvel  if  they  throve  upon  such  low  diet/' 
remarked  Abiah,  calmly ;  "  but  it  is  a  dinner  easily  to  be 
cooked,  husband,  and  I  will  do  my  best  to  have  every- 
thing as  it  should  be." 

"And  good  is  your  best,  wife.  The  moil  of  it  is 
they  want  to  be  so  fine  and  Frenchified  that  they  Ve  set 
their  dinner  for  half  past  two  o'clock.  I  told  them  I 
did  n't  know  as  our  kitchen  chimbley  would  carry  smoke 
at  that  hour  of  the  day,  seeing  it  had  never  been  tried." 

"  I  guess  it  will,  S  uth'ard." 
'T  would  n't  put  you  out  any  if  it  did  n't,"  replied 
S'uth'ard,  half  annoyed  and  half  admiring.     "  Were 
you  ever  out  of  sorts  in  your  life,  Ab  ?    /  never  saw 
you  so." 

**  It 's  best  that  one  of  us  should  be  pretty  quiet," 
said  Ab,  with  a  smile  so  significant  that  S'uth'ard's  sten- 
torian laugh  reached  the  merry  maids  in  the  kitchen,  and 
made  them  laugh  for  sympathy. 

So  thus  began  the  revels  of  the  Old  Colony  Club, 
whose  annals  are  one  of  the  most  charming  mines  of 
Old  Colony  lore  remaining  for  a  later  generation. 


CHAPTER  XXVIIL 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  RINGS. 

It  was  spring,  and  upon  the  chill  air  of  melting  snow 
and  icebergs  floating  off  the  coast,  and  the  discontented 
east  winds,  stole  the  breath  of  the  epigaea,  pushing  its 
rose-tinted  and  spice-laden  clusters  of  blossom  up  through 
tangles  of  wintergreen  and  beds  of  sodden  brown  leaves, 
and  beside  gnarled  stumps  of  trees  dead,  once  and  for 
all,  while  she,  the  darling  of  the  Pilgrims,  who  called 
her  Mayflower,  lived  on  from  year  to  year,  ever  renewed 
in  boundless  continuity  of  life.  Yes,  the  epigaea  was  in 
bloom,  and  Priscilla  LeBaron  and  Hannah  Howland,  in 
pursuance  of  a  deep  plot  laid  the  day  before,  had  risen 
early  and  crept  forth  from  their  respective  homes  with 
the  secrecy  of  conspirators,  to  go  and  gather  the  earliest 
clusters  before  Abraham  Hammatt  or  Joshua  Thomas 
should  be  before  them  ;  for  in  those  days,  a  custom  akin 
to  that  of  St.  Valentine's  Day  with  its  gloves  obtained  in 
Plymouth,  and  the  young  man  who  wished  to  stand  es- 
pecially well  with  some  young  lady  suggested  his  prefer- 
ence and  obtained  a  certain  claim  upon  her  indulgence 
by  presenting  her  with  the  earliest  Mayflowers  she  had 
seen.  Naturally,  that  spirit  of  coquetry  occasionally  to 
be  met  even  among  the  maidens  of  Plymouth  inspired 
those  who  expected  this  offering  to  make  every  exertion 
to  forestall  it,  and  when  Strephon  called  with  his  little 
offering  Chloe  loved  to  point  to  a  similar  one  at  her 
elbow,  and  say  :  — 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  RINGS.  251 


"  Oh,  I 'm  sorry  you  took  the  trouble,  but  you  see  1 
have  some  already." 

So  Pris  and  Nanny,  as  they  called  each  other,  crept 
out  of  bed  and  out  of  the  house  as  early  as  the  sun, 
and  each  with  a  good  bit  of  bread  in  her  pocket,  and 
Billington  Sea  waiting  for  them  to  drink,  gayly  took  the 
road  in  that  direction,  much  delighted  at  their  own 
courage  and  finesse. 

The  bread  was  eaten,  a  certain  portion  of  the  sea  was 
quaffed,  and  the  two  pretty  maids  were  growing  a  little 
tired,  but  still  the  baskets  were  not  filled,  for  the  ep' 
gaea,  although  abundant,  was  not  fully  bloomed ;  and  in 
those  days  one  scorned  to  gather  the  little  hard  buds 
now  sold  at  every  city  street  corner,  and  bearing  the 
same  resemblance  to  matured  Mayflowers  that  a  tiger 
cub  born  in  a  cage  does  to  the  king  of  the  jungles. 

"  There  '11  be  more  over  toward  South  Pond,"  ex- 
claimed Nanny  at  last ;  "  but  I 'm  so  tired,  are  n't  you, 
Pris?" 

"  Tired  ?  Yes,  I  suppose  so,  but  I  'U  have  a  bunch  of 
Mayflowers  to  show  Abe  to-night  if  I  perish  in  the  at- 
tempt." 

"  Oh,  well,  in  that  case  we  '11  go  on,"  and  Nanny,  who 
was  of  a  more  fragile  mould  and  constitution  than  her 
friend,  straightened  her  back,  and  desperately  breasted 
the  steep  hill  lying  just  beyond  Little  Billington. 

"  I  '11  tell  you.  Nan ;  since  you  're  so  tired,  I  '11  go 
alone  straight  on  toward  that  dead  oak  where  we  made 
a  fire  last  fall ;  don't  you  remember  ?  " 

"  Yes,  you  can  almost  see  it  from  here." 

"  Well,  I  '11  go  as  far  as  there,  and  if  I  find  May- 
flowers I  '11  hail  you  to  come ;  but  if  not,  we  '11  make  it 
do  with  what  we  can  find  between  this  and  home.  You 
sit  down  here  and  wait." 


\ 


252     DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 

"  I  '11  just  poke  round  a  little  here  in  the  bushes  first ; 
mayhap  I  '11  chance  on  some  we  have  n't  seen  yet." 

"  As  you  will,  only  don't  stray  away."  And  Priscilla, 
light  and  tireless  as  a  bird,  was  out  of  sight  in  a  moment. 
Hannah,  more  tired  than  she  confessed,  sat  still  for  a 
little  while,  listening  to  the  innumerable  sounds  of  life 
that  make  the  awakening  forest  eloquent,  from  the  faint 
rustle  one  sometimes  catches  as  the  fronds  of  a  fern  un- 
fold, or  a  bee  brushes  in  and  out  of  a  pale,  sweet  spring 
blossom,  to  the  liquid  song  of  the  bluebird  and  the 
querulous  note  of  the  robin,  who  open  the  concert  soon 
to  be  swelled  by  the  golden  shower  of  the  bobolink's 
aerial  song  and  the  glory  of  the  oriole. 

The  call  of  an  early  thrush  from  the  swampy  valley 
behind  her  attracted  Nan's  attention,  and  with  its  subtle 
note  of  invitation  seemed  to  call  her  to  his  side.  Al- 
most involuntarily  the  girl  obeyed,  and  with  a  smile 
upon  her  lips  began  descending  the  slippery  hillside, 
saying  half  aloud  ;  — 

"  You  want  to  show  me  where  the  Mayflowers  are, 
don't  you,  birdie  ?  " 

And  to  be  sure,  just  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  a  cloud  of 
rosy  color  showed  a  patch  of  blossoms  whose  delicate 
perfume  already  rose  to  welcome  her.  Poising  herself 
upon  an  exposed  tree  root,  Nan  essayed  to  spring  across 
a  little  gully  dividing  her  from  the  tussock  where  these 
grew,  but  in  the  act  was  startled  by  the  cautious  move- 
ment of  some  large  creature  in  the  thicket  behind  her. 
A  tradition  of  wolves,  a  certainty  of  Indians,  danger- 
ous if  intoxicated,  a  panic  such  as  lies  in  wait  for  femi- 
nine perils,  rushed  across  Hannah's  mind,  and  with  a 
little  piteous  cry  she  jumped  short  of  her  mark,  and  fell, 
one  foot  deep  in  the  bogliole,  the  other  crumpled  under 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  RINGS.  253 


her,  her  hands  clutching  all  unconsciously  at  the  May- 
flowers amid  which  she  had  fallen. 

An  exclamation  in  a  deeper  tone  blended  with  her 
own,  and  out  from  the  thicket  leaped,  not  a  wolf  nor  an 
Indian,  but  a  tall,  dark,  and  very  handsome  young  man, 
who,  striding  across  the  boggy  ground,  reached  the  tus- 
sock almost  as  soon  as  Hannah,  and  without  much  cere- 
mony raised  her  and  placed  her  upon  her  feet,  saying, 

"  I  hope  you  will  forgive  me.  Miss  Rowland,  but  "  — 

"  Oh !  my  foot !  "  and  Hannah,  clutching  at  the 
young  man's  arm  as  the  only  available  means  of  support, 
turned  so  ghastly  white  that  in  very  charity  he  put  an 
arm  around  her  waist  and  helped  her  to  sit  down  upon 
the  hillock  and  lean  upon  his  shoulder. 

**  My  ankle  is  sprained,  —  perhaps  broken.  I  can't 
stand  at  all,''  whispered  the  girl.  ^'  Call  Pris  —  call 
Miss  LeBaron  as  loud  as  you  can ! " 

"  She 's  coming  !  She  had  turned  back  just  as  you 
fell  —  this  way !    Here  !    Miss  LeBaron,  this  way !  " 

And  Priscilla  cautiously  approaching  the  edge  of  the 
boggy  basin,  stood  speechless  before  the  sight  of  her 
friend  fainting  in  the  arms  of  a  young  man,  totally  un- 
known to  either  of  them. 

"  What  has  happened  ?  What  is  it  ?  "  demanded  she, 
in  that  sort  of  indignation  with  which  many  natures  meet 
the  incomprehensible. 

"  I 've  sprained  my  ankle,  Pris,"  moaned  Hannah, 
keeping  back  a  sob. 

"  Poor  Nan  !  And  who  is,  —  who  —  excuse  me  sir, 
but  how  came  you  here,  if  I  might  ask  ?  " 

I  came  to  gather  Mayflowers,"  replied  the  stranger, 
with  a  half  smile,  "  and  happened  to  be  at  hand  when 
Miss  Rowland  f  elL  The  question  now  is  of  taking  her 
home,  and  first  of  getting  up  yonder  bank." 


254     DK  LeBAEON  and  his  DAUGHTERS, 


"Can't  you  walk  at  all,  dear?"  asked  Priscilla,  a 
little  sharply,  for  it  hurt  her  own  maidenliness  to  see  her 
friend  lie  upon  this  stranger's  breast  so  helplessly  and 
unresistingly. 

A  'no/  so  faint  and  chill  that  it  failed  to  reach  the  ears 
of  the  listener,  formed  itself  upon  the  sufferer's  white 
lips,  and  the  stranger  indignantly  echoed  it. 

"  No  !  If  she  could  stand  she  would  not  allow  —  I 
will  bring  her  up  the  bank,  if  you  will  kindly  hold  the 
bushes  aside." 

And  as  Priscilla,  abashed  she  knew  not  why,  obeyed, 
the  young  man  added  in  a  lower  tone,  "  You  will  par- 
don what  would  be  a  strange  familiarity,  were  you  not 
helpless."  And  raising  Hannah's  slight  form  firmly 
and  tenderly  in  his  arms,  he  strode  across  the  bogholes, 
landed  safely  upon  the  firm  ground,  struggled  up  the 
hill,  and  finally  seated  the  poor  girl  on  the  same  log 
where  not  fifteen  minutes  before  she  had  rested  so 
placidly  and  well. 

"  Now  if  you  will  sit  beside  her,  I  will  hasten  to  the 
village  for  help,"  said  the  young  man,  glancing  anxiously 
at  the  sufferer,  who  hardly  seemed  conscious. 

"  I  can  go  quicker,  I  know  just  where  to  go  and  who 
to  call,  and  —  and  it  would  make  talk  for  a  stranger  to 
go  about  the  town  with  such  a  tale,"  said  Priscilla,  color- 
ing brightly  as  the  idea  of  all  the  probable  gossip  came 
into  her  mind. 

"  Yes,  you  go,  Pris,  and  let  Quasho  come  and  take  me 
to  your  house  quietly,"  murmured  Hannah,  and  Pris- 
cilla, casting  a  severe  and  comprehensive  glance  at  the 
stranger,  replied,  — 

"  I  suppose,  sir,  you  will  stay  —  she  does  not  need 
any  help.  You  might  be  picking  your  Mayflowers,  only 
stay  within  call." 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  RINGS. 


255 


"  I  am  not  a  rascal,  Miss  LeBaron/' 

"No,  but  you  are  a  stranger,"  replied  Priscilla, 
naively  voicing  the  sentiment  of  her  native  place  ;  and 
then  with  a  whispered  word  or  two  to  Hannah,  and  an 
uneasy  glance  at  her  attendant,  she  ran  away  through 
the  wood  as  fleet  as  one  of  the  wild  creatures  which  fled 
before  her,  and  as  light  as  the  birds  who  gravely  ques- 
tioned from  tree  to  tree  as  to  what  these  droll  mortals 
might  be  doing  now. 

Some  moments  of  profound  silence  ensued,  broken  by 
Hannah,  who  said  with  a  sorry  attempt  at  calmness  :  — 

"  You  are  a  stranger  here,  are  you  not  ?  " 

"  I  am  a  sailor  on  board  Captain  Samson's  brig,  the 
Lydia,"  replied  the  young  man  in  a  constrained  voice. 
Hannah  looked  at  him  again.  "  Captain  Samson  was 
at  our  house  last  night,  and  said  that  all  his  men  were 
townsmen,  but  I  don't  think  I  ever  saw  you.  May  I 
ask  your  name  ?  " 

"  They  call  me  Jack." 

"  But  your  family  name  ?  " 

"We  poor  sailors  don't  have  family  names,  but  1 
know  yours.  Miss  Howland." 
"You  do!  How?" 

"  I  have  often  seen  you  in  Plymouth.  It  is  n't  likely 
you  would  notice  me.  If  you  will  not  think  it  a  liberty, 
I  will  tell  you  why  I  was  in  the  woods  this  morning." 

To  gather  a  posy  for  some  young  lady,  I  suppose," 
said  Hannah,  a  little  startled,  yet  interested. 

"  Yes,  I  will  show  you."  And  diving  down  into  the 
little  dell,  the  sailor  presently  returned  carrying  a  bas- 
ket filled  with  the  odorous  pink  flowers  glistening  with 
dew. 

"  Oh,  what  beauties,  —  finer  than  any  we  found !  " 


256   DK  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


"  Yes,  it  made  me  feel  bad  to  see  you  picking  what  1 
had  n't  thought  good  enough  to  offer  you." 

"  Oh,  —  me  —  you  mean  "  — 

"  They  were  for  you.    I  sent  you  some  last  year." 

"  Those  beauties  !    They  were  from  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  —  you  're  not  offended  ?  " 

"  N-o-o.    But  —  who  are  you  ?  " 

"  Let  me  throw  out  these  poor  things  in  your  basket, 
and  put  in  what  I  have  picked.  They  are  so  much 
finer." 

"  Yes,  —  if  you  picked  them  for  me." 

"  Indeed  I  did,  and  wherever  I  sail  all  over  the 
world,  I  mean  to  be  back  here  in  Plymouth  to  pick  the 
first  Mayflowers  for  you  every  year,  until "  — 
Until  when,  Mr.  —  Jack  ?  " 

"  Until  you  are  married." 

"  Oh,  that  may  never  be." 

The  sailor  made  no  reply,  apparently  absorbed  in  ex- 
changing the  contents  of  the  two  baskets,  and  carefully 
preserving  every  sprig  that  Hannah  had  picked. 

"  I  hear  the  wagon  coming !  "  exclaimed  Hannah, 
with  an  air  of  relief. 

"  Yes,  and  that  is  Captain  Samson's  voice,"  replied 
the  sailor,  —  "I  suppose  they  met  him  and  asked  his 
help." 

"  Well,  —  he  won't  object  to  one  of  his  men  helping  a 
poor  crippled  girl,  will  he  ?  " 
"No,  Miss  Howland,  but  "  — 

"  Hi !  Dere 's  Miss  Hannah,  now !  "  exclaimed 
Quasho's  voice  ;  and  guiding  his  horse  between  the  trees 
and  over  the  bushes  he  presently  appeared,  with  Cap- 
tain Samson  on  the  seat  beside  him. 

"  Miss  Prissy  say  she  waiting  for  you  at  de  house, 


TEE  LAST  OF  THE  RINGS. 


257 


Miss  Hannah,  an'  Mas'  Cap'n  here  passin'  'long  jus'  den, 
an'  berry  kin'ly  offer  he  help  fer  tote  Mis'  Hannah 
inter  de  waggin,  an'  nobody  else  knew  noffin  'bout  it." 
You  here,  Ring !  "  exclaimed  the  Captain,  sternly. 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  was  lucky  enough  to  be  near  when  Miss 
Rowland  hurt  herself,  and  stayed  with  her." 

"  Ring !  "  echoed  Hannah,  faintly. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  sailor,  bitterly.  "  The  only  one 
left  alive  of  Ansel  Ring's  family  that  Mother  Crewe 
cursed,  and  all  the  name  I  have  is  Jack.  'T  is  what  I 
signed  on  the  books,  Captain." 

"  Well,  well,  —  it  don't  matter  to  this  young  lady,  and 
I  have  n't  told  the  men." 

"  My  service  to  you,  Miss  Howland,"  and  uncovering 
his  handsome  head,  Ansel  Ring  picked  up  his  basket  of 
Mayflowers  and  disappeared  in  the  wood. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


SOME  OLD  RECORDS. 

"  It  is  not  physic  that  you  need,  Parson,  but  a  quiet 
mind." 

And  Doctor  LeBaron  drew  his  shaggy  brows  together, 
and  gazed  disapprovingly  at  his  pastor,  who,  resting  his 
fevered  brow  upon  his  hand,  sat  idly  at  the  study  table, 
laden  with  record  books,  manuscript  sermons,  letters, 
and  papers. 

A  quiet  mind,  —  peace !  "  echoed  he,  wearily ;  "  it 
awaits  me  in  the  grave,  perchance,  but  not  this  side." 

^'  Ah !  That 's  a  comfortable  state  of  mind,  for  a  man 
not  yet  in  middle  life.  What  will  you  say  when 
you  have  doubled  your  years,  and  still  not  come  to 
mine  ?  " 

^'  I  never  shall  see  that  day,  Doctor.  Few  and  evil 
are  the  years  allotted  to  me,  and  yet  it  may  well  be  that 
they  are  but  entry  to  worse,  infinitely  worse." 

"  You  're  vexed  over  the  Halfway  Covenant,  I  sup- 
pose." 

"It  is  one  symptom  of  the  fatal  sickness  that  has 
seized  upon  this  church.  At  the  last  church  meeting, 
where  you  did  not  present  yourself  "  — 

"  Having  to  superintend  both  a  birth  and  a  death  in 
one  afternoon." 

"  Doubtless,  doubtless  ;  but  I  laid  before  the  people, 
with  all  the  fervor  I  could  command,  the  terrible  danger 


SOME  OLD  RECORDS. 


259 


they  incur  by  this  practice.  Deacon  Bartlett  replied 
that  it  was  "  an  old  ancient  practice,"  and  that  it  was  not 
well  to  change  such,  but  I  bade  him  remember  that  the 
Church  Records  show  it  to  be  a  practice  introduced  by 
my  reverend  predecessor,  and  even  then  more  by  way 
of  concession  to  human  frailty  than  of  ordinance,  and 
I  put  it  to  him  and  all  of  them,  that  in  these  days 
of  laxity  and  heresy,  it  was  for  Christ's  people  to 
strengthen  the  bulwarks,  and  stand  every  man  with  his 
weapon  in  one  hand  and  his  mattock  in  the  other,  even 
as  the  Hebrews  when  they  rebuilt  the  walls  of  Jeru- 
salem, harassed  at  every  step  by  the  sons  of  Belial." 

"  H'm.  You  can't  stop  the  world  turning  round, 
Parson." 

"  What  ?  Do  you  call  heresy  progress,  Doctor  Le- 
Baron?" 

"  Nay.  I  do  but  state  a  scientific  fact.  And  what 
about  the  music  ?  " 

"  There  again  they  withstand  me.  But  I  spent  the 
time  when  others  slept  last  night  in  entering  all  these 
matters  in  the  parish  Record.  Here  —  read  for  your- 
self." 

And  with  the  feverish  languor  of  an  overwrought 
nervous  system,  the  minister  dragged  a  long  leather- 
covered  volume  from  under  the  manuscript  of  a  half- 
written  sermon  thrown  aside  in  disgust,  and  pushed  it 
toward  the  doctor. 

"  There  !  Read  the  two  or  three  last  pages,  and  see 
if  the  prescription  for  a  quiet  mind  is  writ  down  upon 
one  of  them  by  any  chance." 

"  Tit  for  tat  is  fair  play,"  replied  the  doctor,  fum- 
bling in  the  pockets  of  his  wide-skirted  coat,  "and 
here  is  a  news-letter  brought  down  from  Boston,  by  the 


260    DR,  LeBARON  and  his  DAUGHTERS. 


packet  this  morning.  It  contains  stirring  matter,  and 
requiring  more  immediate  action,  on  both  your  part 
and  mine,  than  even  the  Halfway  Covenant.  There, 
lie  back  in  your  chair  and  put  your  feet  on  this,  while 
you  read." 

"  I  cannot  suppose  that  temporal  matters  deserve 
such  —  ha !  " 

And  the  parson,  who  had  received  the  little  coarse 
brown  sheet  rather  scornfully,  paused  abruptly,  and  be- 
came so  absorbed  in  its  contents  as  not  to  perceive  the 
little  smile  with  which,  and  a  pinch  of  snuff,  the  doctor 
applauded  his  own  method  of  treatment. 

Then  opening  the  record  book,  he  turned  the  pages, 
reading  bits  here  and  there  before  coming  to  the  last 
entry,  as  for  instance,  how  Sister  Esther  Jackson  asked 
privilege  of  baptism  for  an  orphan  infant  adopted  by 
her,  but  was  refused  because  the  child  was  without 
birthright.  Afterward,  however,  upon  her  urgent  insist- 
ence that  the  child  had  become  as  her  own,  it  was 
allowed  baptism  on  the  birthright  of  its  adopted  mother. 

Brother  John  May  was  requested,  in  1764,  "  to  set  the 
tune  in  concert,  in  order  for  the  better,  more  regular, 
and  decent  carrying  on  of  that  more  heavenly  part  of 
the  worship  of  God,  viz.,  singing  in  the  house  of  God." 

In  1770,  the  church  split  upon  the  question  whether 
to  exchange  the  Version  of  Psalms  sung  in  meeting, 
either  for  Watts's  Hymns,  or  those  of  Tate  and  Brady, 
which  had  been  upon  trial  for  three  years,  and  some 
thought  it  time  to  come  to  a  determination.  One 
church  meeting,  called  to  discuss  this  question,  broke  up 
because  it  was  "  such  an  extreme  cold  day,"  and  no- 
body had  ever  yet  dreamed  of  such  luxury  as  heating 
the  meeting-house ! 


SOME  OLD  RECORDS. 


261 


Another  meeting  was  broken  up  by  the  intemperate 
language  of  some  of  the  brethren,  Deacon  Foster  assert- 
ing his  belief  that  Dr.  Watts  composed  his  hymns  under 
the  direct  inspiration  of  the  devil.  Finally,  however, 
those  who  hated  Watts  "  condescended  "  to  Tate  and 
Brady,  which  Mr.  Robbins  himself  preferred,  and  it 
was  finally  agreed  to  try  the  latter  hymnal  for  six 
months  longer  without  any  psalms.  But  it  was  not  until 
1777,  that  Jesse  Churchill,  Andrew  Crosswell,  Samuel 
Sherman,  and  William  Bartlett  were  chosen  to  act  as 
"  Choristers  in  Publick  Worship  as  Occasion  requires,'' 
thus  proving  that  a  male  choir  is  a  Congregational,  and 
not  a  High  Church  practice ! 

Jane  Tinker  was  warned  that  "  her  conduct  has  been 
so  contrary  to  y®  Gospel,  and  caused  such  griefe  and 
offence  to  several  of  y®  Ch.  that  they  cannot  comfort- 
ably set  down  with  her  at  y®  holy  ordinance  of  y®  Lord's 
Supper,  &  She  be  desired  to  refrain  from  Coming  until 
she  gives  Christian  Satisfaction,  i.  e.  publick  confession." 

Whether  Jane  preferred  the  shame  of  this  public 
confession  to  the  unknown  terrors  of  excommunication, 
was  not  registered  ;  but  apropos  of  the  matter,  the  pastor 
had  set  down  a  long  discussion  as  to  the  propriety  of 
these  public  confessions  being  entered  upon  the  church 
records,  some  members  contending  that  to  hand  down 
the  sins  with  the  name  of  an  individual  to  an  unlimited 
posterity,  was  quite  too  severe  a  punishment ;  while  Mr. 
Bobbins,  with  certain  others,  held  that  the  example  of 
penitence  was  very  efficacious  to  those  still  in  sin  but 
disposed  to  repent,  and  cited  the  Confessions  of  Saint 
Augustine  and  the  story  of  Mary  Magdalene  as  having 
been  of  great  use  to  many.  "  Falling  into  sin  is  shame, 
but  confession  is  no  shame,  while  it  is  great  shame  if 


262    DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


one  does  not  confess ; "  and  finally  the  pastor  cites  the 
case  of  a  woman  who  was  well  known  in  the  town  to 
have  been  a  grievous  sinner,  but  who  became  converted, 
and  was  "  propounded  for  Communion,"  but  it  not  be- 
ing known,  because  not  recorded,  that  she  had  made 
publick  Confession,  caused  great  uneasiness  to  many, 
until  by  personal  inquiry  it  was  found  that  she  had." 
And  "  Sister  Lydia  C.  made  publick  Confession  of  in- 
temperate drinking  and  was  restored  to  Communion." 
Another  minute  mightily  tickled  the  doctor's  sense  of 
humor,  as  proving  the  wonderful  liberality  of  a  church 
which  refused  a  dying  woman's  plea  for  the  sacrament 
and  a  helpless  infant's  plea  for  baptism.  "  1770,  Aug. 
12.  Lord's  Day.  The  Ch.  at  the  request  of  Mrs.  Tren- 
holme,  wife  of  Mr.  William  Trenholme,  a  regular  mem- 
ber of  the  Church  of  England,  who  has  lived  in  y*  town 
nigh  a  12"^°.  and  is  a  person  of  sober  life  and  conver- 
sation ;  voted  :  That  whereas  Mrs.  Trenholme  was  ad- 
mitted to  occasional  Communion  with  y^  Church  on  y® 
Lord's  Day  at  y®  Sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  & 
now  desires  Baptism  for  her  Infant  child,  that  her  Re- 
quest be  granted,  and  that  she  be  hereafter  admitted  to 
occasional  Communion  with  us  in  Special  Ordinances. 
Unanimous  vote  of  assent.  Memo.  This  vote  was 
passed  professedly  with  a  view  y*  it  may  be  seen  by 
after  Generations  that  this  Ch.  does  not  renounce,  but 
is  very  willing  to  hold  Communion  with  regular  Mem- 
bers of  y^  Ch.  of  England." 

"  But  would  the  Church  of  England  be  very  willing 
to  hold  communion  with  us  .'^ "  asked  LeBaron,  half 
aloud. 

Eh  ?  what  ?  "  replied  his  companion,  abstractedly  ; 
and  the  doctor,  merely  waving  his  hand,  turned  another 


SOME  OLD  RECORDS. 


263 


leaf,  willing  that  his  patient  should  forget,  in  the  news 
of  the  day,  those  questions  that  vexed  his  righteous  soul 
overmuch,  calling  forth  such  a  bitter  cry  as  this. 

"  For  though  all  freely  charge  themselves  with  being 
criminally  negligent  in  Discipline  of  y®  Church  and 
care  of  y®  children  of  y®  Church,  nobody  will  do  any- 
thing now  at  this  present.  The  Lord  give  us  all  a 
heart  to  repent  and  reform  in  y®  Thing  which  I  believe 
is  one  Awful  Provoking  Cause  of  y®  melancholly  with- 
drawal of  y®  Spirit  and  comforting  Presence  of  Christ.'' 

And  after  the  record  of  a  stormy  dispute  over  the 
Halfway  Covenant,  he  adds,  "Oh  that  y®  All- Wise 
and  Infinitely  Merciful  Father  of  Lights  would  lead  and 
direct  y!  Ch.  in  the  way  that  is  pleasing  to  Him,  and 
the  way  of  Truth,  Peace,  and  Holiness  for  his  dear 
Son's  sake." 

Next,  Dr.  LeBaron  with  much  interest  read  the  ac- 
count of  the  Ordination  of  his  own  son  Lemuel  over 
a  parish  in  Rochester,  Mass.,  where  Pastor  Robbins 
preached,  the  Rev.  Ivory  Hovey  of  Manomet  made 
the  first  prayer,  and  the  Rev.  Ammi  Ruhama  Robbins, 
brother-in-law  of  Lemuel,  the  last  one.  "The  whole 
attended  ^  great  Decency  &  Solemnity;  may  God 
make  y®  Ordained  a  rich  and  lasting  Blessing  to  his 
people,  and  a  Pastor  after  His  own  Heart." 

And  finally  came  the  latest  record  of  those  unhappy 
Church  meetings  to  discuss  and  insist  upon  the  Half 
way  Covenant  and  more  liberal  measures  generally, 
whereat  the  spirit  of  opposition  and  schism  so  boldly 
reared  its  head  as  to  wring  from  the  pastor's  pen  these 
words  :  — 

"  Oh  y*  God  of  his  Infinite  Mercy  would  Compassion- 
ate y^  Chh.  under  its  present  divided  State  &  graciously 


264  DK  LeBARON  and  his  daughters. 


lead  and  Direct  to  such  Measures  &  Conclusions  as  shall 
be  most  for  His  Glory  &  real  Interest  &  wellfare  of 
y®  dear  Ch  and  People  for  Jesus  Christ's  sake.  Amen." 

And  yet  the  "  little  rift "  widened  and  deepened 
year  by  year,  until  in  the  revolt  from  the  hideous  fatal- 
ism and  hopelessness  of  Calvin  the  church  planted  by 
the  Pilgrims,  and  watered  with  their  tears  and  blood, 
lapsed  into  such  breadth  and  width  of  Liberalism  as  to 
dispense  with  all  boundaries  or  limitations  except  those 
of  morality  and  good  taste.  It  was  a  clear  perception 
of  this  drift,  and  his  inability  to  stay  or  direct  it,  that 
broke  Chandler  Robbins'  righteous  heart  and  sent  him 
to  a  premature  grave.  Poor  heatt !  It  could  not  ex* 
pand,  it  could  only  burst ! 

But  for  the  moment  the  patriot  came  to  the  relief  of 
the  Calvinist,  and  as  LeBaron  looked  at  him  with  grave 
concern  and  perplexity,  wondering  what  drugs  to  min- 
ister to  this  mind  diseased,  the  minister  raised  a  face 
glowing  with  animation  and  exclaimed,  — 

"  This  is  wonderful.  Doctor,  really  wonderful !  There 
can  be  no  question  now  of  going  back ;  it  is  all  the 
same  as  a  declaration  of  war  between  the  colonies  and 
the  mother  country." 

"And  the  mother  will  fare  like  Deacon  Spooner's 
pig,  having  very  much  the  safne  character  of  unreason- 
ing obstinacy." 

What  about  the  deacon's  pig  ?  "  asked  the  parson, 
with  a  side  glance  at  the  newspaper;  but  the  doctor 
knew  that  this  would  keep,  and  preferred  to  make  his 
patient  laugh  a  httlo  to  begin  with. 

"  Why,  the  other  day,  just  as  the  deacon,  in  all  the 
glories  of  a  fresh  ruffled  shirt,  polished  shoes,  a  newly 
dressed  wig  tied  with  a  smart  ribbon,  his  laced  hat  on 


SOME  OLD  RECORDS, 


265 


his  head,  and  his  gold-headed  cane  in  his  hand,  set 
forth  for  the  Old  Colony  Club-room,  where  he  had 
been  invited  to  spend  the  evening,  he  espied  his  fat  pig 
creeping  through  a  hole  in  his  sty  and  emerging  into 
the  alley  between  North  and  King  Streets  "  — 

"  Spooner's  Alley,  as  he  calls  it." 

"  Yes,  just  as  I  call  its  continuation  LeBaron's  Alley o 
We  all  love  the  sound  of  our  own  names.  Well,  it 
seemed  but  the  work  of  a  moment  to  overtake  and  head 
the  creature  back  into  the  same  breach  through  which 
he  had  escaped,  and  Ephraim  stirred  his  stumps  to  do  it, 
calling  out  at  the  same  time  in  his  pleasant  fashion, 
*  Piggie  !  Piggie  !  Here  Piggie,  this  way,  Piggie,  this 
way,  Mr.  Piggie  ! 

"  The  man's  voice  to  a  T !  Were  you  there  to  see 
and  hear,  Doctor  ?  " 

I  was  like  peeping  Tom  of  Coventry,  in  sight  but 
not  to  be  seen,''  replied  the  doctor,  watching  the  parson's 
laugh  with  professional  approval.  "  Well,  Mr.  Piggie 
turned  very  obediently,  but  instead  of  creeping  in  again 
at  the  hole  in  the  fence,  rushed  past  it  and  out  into  the 
street,  the  deacon  in  close  pursuit,  holding  on  his  hat 
with  one  hand,  for  there  was  a  sea-turn  on,  with  a> 
shrewd  east  wind,  and  it  called  for  pretty  rapid  use  of 
those  polished  shoes  to  get  ahead  of  Piggie  running  up 
the  hill ;  but  the  deacon  is  a  resolute  man  as  well  as  a 
very  courteous  one,  and  still  as  he  ran,  flourishing  the 
gold-headed  stick  in  one  hand  and  holding  on  his  hat 
with  the  other,  he  never  ceased  politely  calling  *  Here, 
Piggie  !  Here,  Piggie  !  This  way,  Mr.  Piggie,  this 
way,  good  little  Piggie  ! '  " 

"  Oh  dear  I    I  can  hear  him  !  *' 

"  Well,  up  and  down  North  Street  they  raced^  round 


266      DR,  LeBARON  and  his  DAUGHTERS. 


Cole's  Hill  and  back,  a  little  way  up  King  Street,  where 
Simeon  Samson,  just  stepping  out  of  his  door,  headed 
him  off,  and  finally  straight  down  the  hill  to  Water 
Street,  the  poor  deacon  scrambling  and  slipping  after, 
much  to  the  disadvantage  of  those  shoes  as  I  am  sore 
afraid,  and  not  without  a  tumble  or  two.  Arrived  at  the 
bottom  and  picking  himself  up,  the  deacon  looked  about 
him,  and  behold !  Mr.  Piggie,  with  the  air  of  a  gentle- 
man taking  a  walk,  was  trotting  down  Lothrop's  wharf, 
grunting  his  disapproval  of  such  interference. 

"  '  I  think  I  have  you  now,  Mr.  Piggie,  and  I  will  lead 
you  home  by  your  ear  with  a  string  tied  round  it,'  re- 
marked the  deacon,  fumbling  in  his  pocket  for  that  piece 
of  whipcord  I  have  heard  him  boast  of  always  carry- 
ing. I  strolled  along  in  the  same  direction,  for  in  fact 
there  is  no  air  to  be  found  more  salubrious  than  that  at 
the  end  of  Lothrop's  wharf  "  — 

"Especially  in  a  sea-turn  in  December,"  remarked 
the  parson,  wiping  his  eyes. 

"  Exactly.  Well,  the  deacon  found  his  whipcord  and 
made  a  running  noose  at  one  end,  then  gently  stepped 
up  to  Piggie,  who  stood  contemplating  the  water  with  a 
certain  ominous  twist  to  his  tail,  as  one  who  screws  his 
courage  to  the  sticking-point. 

" '  I  have  you  now,  Mr.  Piggie,  and  you  won't  get 
away  in  a  hurry  I  do  assure  you,'  exclaimed  the  deacon, 
making  a  final  stride  upon  his  prey ;  but  no  sooner  did 
his  hand  touch  the  creature's  neck,  than  with  one  wild 
grunt  of  defiance  he  made  the  final  plunge,  diving  off 
the  wharf  in  such  a  hurry  as  nearly  to  carry  the  deacon 
with  him,  and  striking  out  with  his  fore  feet,  which  at 
every  pass  scratched  his  own  throat,  and  in  the  end 
would  cut  as  deep  as  the  knli'e  which  in  some  vision  of 
the  night  he  had  doubtless  seen  awaiting  him." 


SOME  OLD  RECORDS. 


Actually  jumped  off  the  wharf  !  " 
Actually ;  and  as  it  was  just  the  turn  of  the  tide,  and 
the  ebb  setting  out  like  a  mill-stream,  he  was  no  sooner 
in  the  water  than  out  of  reach.  The  deacon  stood  and 
looked  after  him  for  a  moment,  then  rolled  up  his  string 
very  carefully  and  neatly,  and  replaced  it  in  his  pocket. 
By  that  time  he  had  recovered  his  breath  and  his  man- 
ners, and  taking  off  his  hat,  he  bowed  until  its  brim 
touched  the  ground,  shouting,  — 

"  '  Good-by,  Mr.  Piggie  !  A  pleasant  voyage  to  you, 
Mr.  Piggie !  No  doubt  you  know  your  own  business 
best,  but  in  my  tuppenny-ha'-penny  judgment  you  've 
made  a  very  poor  departure.  Still,  you  have  my  best 
wishes,  my  ve  -  ry  best  wishes ! '  And  putting  on  his 
hat  again  he  trotted  off  down  Water  Street,  and  I  hid 
behind  a  shed  till  he  was  gone." 

"  Well,  Doctor,  I  have  n't  laughed  as  much  since  our 
French  friends  were  here,  and  it  has  done  me  good." 

"  If  there  should  be  trouble  between  the  Colonies  and 
England,  we  may  see  our  French  friends  again,"  re- 
marked the  doctor,  significantly. 

"  Say  you  so !    You  hear  from  them  sometimes  ?  " 
"From  Philip  de  Montarnaud  as  often  as  occasion 
I     serves.    He  writes  to  Margot  in  French." 

"  And  there  will  be  trouble  —  there  is  trouble  !  Why, 
i  the  seizing  these  cargoes  of  tea  and  throwing  them  over- 
'  board  is  equal  to  a  declaration  of  war.  England  will 
!  never  sit  down  under  such  an  insult !  " 
I  "  A  people  who  take  such  a  step  as  that  are  prepared 
to  go  all  the  way,"  replied  the  doctor,  sententiously. 
Such  men  as  John  Adams  at  the  head  of  the  move- 
I  ment,  and  John  Hancock,  Henderson  Inches,  and  Ben- 
\     jamin  Austin,  the  committee  chosen  to  warn  the  con- 


268  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


signees  of  their  peril,  do  not,  like  the  deacon's  pig, 
plunge  into  deep  water  and  cut  their  own  throats  to 
escape  being  led  by  the  ear.  If  it  comes  to  a  struggle, 
the  New  England  will  beat  the  Old,  and  if  she  can't  do 
it  alone,  the  French  will  help  her." 

"  And  so  moderate  as  they  showed  themselves !  "  ex- 
claimed the  parson.  "  Not  an  article  injured  or  taken 
away,  save  only  the  accursed  thing  for  which  they  came 
to  seek.  Did  you  mark  this  incident,  Doctor,  of  the 
Mohawks  passing  a  house  where  Admiral  Montague  was 
passing  the  evening,  and  he  opening  the  window  to  call 
out  as  they  went  by,  '  Well  boys,  a  fine  evening  you  Ve 
had  for  your  Indian  caper,  but  mind  you,  the  fiddler  is 
yet  to  be  paid  ! ' 

"  And  Pitts  called  back,  '  Oh,  never  mind.  Admiral, 
never  mind !  Just  come  out  here,  and  we  '11  settle  the 
biU  in  two  minutes  I '  " 

"  Yes,  but  if  he  had  gone  out,  there  would  have  been 
no  harm  done.  These  men  are  patriots,  not  rioters," 
said  the  doctor,  proudly,  and  glad  am  I  that  my  sons 
are  stalwart  men,  and  my  daughters  the  mothers  of 
boys.  They  will  conquer  a  peace  that  shall  build  up  a 
new  country  here  in  the  wilderness,  and  they,  unlike 
their  father,  are  the  sons  of  this  land." 

"  Yes,  and  I  too  have  sons  and  daughters,  and  though 
I  be  a  man  of  peace,  I  may  pray  to  the  God  of  battles 
that  the  cause  of  the  righteous  may  prosper." 

"  Do  so,  Parson  ;  you  may  keep  the  paper.  Good  day 
to  youo" 


CHAPTER  XXX. 


HOW  THE  HOUSE  OP  LEBARON  REJOICED. 

"  Now,  you  Sylvy,  beat  dem  eggs  up  good !  Miss 
Prissy's  weddin'  cake  ain't  a-goin'  ter  be  slighted  long 
as  ole  Phyllis  is  to  de  fore.  Here,  Marcy,  you  put  on 
you  sunbunnit  an'  run  down  to  de  store  fer  quarter 
pound  nutmegs.  Were's  dat  young  one  got  to  now, 
Sylvy?" 

"  Wy,  aun'  Phyllis,  does  you  disremember  dat  you 
sen'  her  a-flyin'  ober  to  Mis'  Lyddy's  to  git  her  hearts 
an'  roun's,  an'  'fore  dat  inter  Mis'  Bart's  ter  see  if 
Mis'  Marg'et  in  dere  ?  'Pears  like  dat  pore  lil'  chile 
ought  ter  be  sot  on  wheels ;  it 's  '  Marcy,  run  here,  an' 
Marcy,  run  dere,  an'  Marcy,  run  dis  way,  an  dat  way, 
an'  toder  way,'  from  sun-up  till  dark,  but  don'no  as 
I  ever  heerd  '  Marcy,  put  on  you  bunnit  an'  go  to  dame- 
school  to  lam  you  letters.'  " 

"  An'  I  donno  w'ats  comin'  to  dis  yere  pore  ole  worF 
w'en  de  lil'  niggers  has  got  to  have  book-larnin',  an' 
dere  mammies  can'  spen'  time  to  do  dere  wuk  'cause 
dey 's  got  so  much  growlin'  ter  do.  Wish't  now  I  had  n' 
done  'greed  to  go  an'  lib  wid  Miss  Lyddy  an'  let  you 
come  here,  you  pore  mis'able  shif'less  cretur,  dough  I 's 
free  to  'fess  I  could  n'  no  way  stan'  hevin'  a  Harlow 
Bot  ober  my  head,  I  dat 's  alluz  b'longed  to  de  LeBarons. 
Well,  well,  de  Lord  kin  fix  it  all  up  to  suit  liese'f ,  I  ain't 
got  nuffin'  ter  say.    Now,  den,  gimme  dose  eggs,  no,  you 


270  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


come  an'  kin'  o'  trinkle  'em  in,  drefful  easy,  w'iles  I 
beat.'' 

"  Mis'  Prissy  showed  me  her  weddin'  gownd  w'en  I 
was  up  thar  makin'  her  bed  this  mornin',"  observed 
Sylvia  with  an  ingratiating  air,  as  she  held  the  bowl 
steady  for  Phyllis  to  scoop  out  the  last  of  the  egg  with 
her  fat  forefinger. 

"  Urn  —  yes.  Miss  Prissy  mos'  too  good-natured  f er 
her  own  good,"  mumbled  she.  "  Bet  you  did  n'  see  dem 
leetly  tonty  w'ite  satin  slippers  dat  come  all  de  way  from 
France  fer  'er." 

"  Yes,  I  did  ;  Miss  Marg'et  was  in  de  room,  an'  she 
took  'em  out  an'  showed  'em  to  me,  an'  she  sez,  sez  she, 
*  De  gen'leman  dat  I 's  gwine  fer  ter  marry  done  sen' 
dese  yere,'  sez  she." 

"  Don'  b'lieve  a  word  uv  it,"  declared  Phyllis  jeal- 
ously. "  I  ain't  seen  no  sech  a  t'ing,  an'  't  ain't  likly 
dey 'd  show  'em  to  a  strange  nigger  like  you." 

"  Oh,  I  guess  dey 's  lay  in'  out  to  s'prize  you  wid  'em 
all  to  wons't  w'en  dey  gets  de  weddin'  suit  all  sot  out  on 
de  bed,"  suggested  Sylvia  with  a  deprecatory  and  in- 
gratiating manner,  for  "  ole  aun'  Phyllis,"  as  she  had 
come  to  be  called,  was  supposed  to  hold  some  mysterious 
sway  over  the  minds  of  "  de  w'ite  folks  "  in  whose  ser- 
vice her  life  had  been  spent,  and  to  be  able  to  make  or 
mar  the  position  of  her  fellow-servants  according  to 
their  favor  in  her  own  eyes.  And  truth  to  tell,  Phyllis's 
temper  at  this  time  was  in  a  condition  necessitating  a 
good  deal  of  caution  on  the  part  of  her  assistants,  for 
great  changes  were  taking  place  in  the  home  she  had 
always  felt  to  be  hers  for  life,  and  old  people,  be  they 
black  or  white,  do  not  love  change  and  instability. 

Priscilla  was  about  to  marry  Abraham  Hammatt, 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LeBARON  REJOICED.  271 


whose  father  the  Captain  was  recently  dead,  and  was 
to  go  home  with  him  to  that  pleasant  old  house  near 
the  corner  of  North  Street,  where  later  on,  the  first 
Bank  in  Plymouth  was  established,  with  Lydia  Le- 
Baron  Goodwin's  son,  William,  as  its  cashier.  The  old 
house  still  stands,  with  B  A  N  K  in  iron  letters  across 
its  brick  south  end,  and  despite  the  prosaic  uses  of  to- 
day, one  may  fancy  Lucy  Rowland  and  her  Captain, 
their  son,  with  sweet  Priscilla  LeBaron  and  those  later 
occupants  of  whom  we  may  speak  by-and-by,  flitting  in 
and  out  the  low-browed  door,  peeping  through  the  win- 
dows, or  gazing  in  wonder  at  the  electric  cars  that  pass 
their  old  habitation. 

Dr.  LeBaron,  thus  left  alone  with  Margot,  who 
showed  no  genius  for  domestic  affairs,  had  engaged  a 
competent  housekeeper  named  Harlow,  whose  prospec- 
tive authority  Phyllis  so  vehemently  defied  that  "  Miss 
Lyddy,"  as  she  still  called  the  doctor's  oldest  daughter, 
albeit  the  young  Goodwins  were  already  men  and  wo- 
men grown,  had  arranged  with  her  father  to  exchange 
Phyllis  for  Sylvia  and  her  little  girl  Mercy,  or  as  she 
was  always  called,  Marcy,  whose  father  was  "young 
Pomp,"  given  to  Lyddy  on  her  marriage,  and  now  no 
longer  either  young  or  junior  of  his  name,  for  Pompey 
the  elder  lay  resting  from  his  labors  upon  Burying 
Hill,  with  a  gravestone  at  his  head,  whereon  LeBaron 
had  inscribed :  — 

**  Glory  and  shame  from  no  condition  rise  ; 
Act  well  your  part,  there  all  the  honor  lies." 

Lydia  Goodwin  had,  as  we  know,  a  talent  for  admin- 
istration, and  when  her  husband  brought  home  Sylvia, 
a  good-looking  young  negress,  to  succeed  Violet  in  the 
position  of  cook,  she  at  once  informed  her  that  she  was 


272  DR,  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


to  be  married  to  Pompey,  a  step  which  would  make 
things  comfortable,  both  as  regards  morality  and  domes- 
tic arrangements.  Sylvia,  trained  in  the  family  of  Dr. 
Cotton  Mather  to  strict  and  silent  obedience,  made 
no  reply  to  this  proposition,  but  Pompey,  who  had  ex- 
panded under  widely  different  influences,  ventured  to 
remark  that  he  was  "  tentive  to  Mas'  Cotton's  Chloe," 
and  preferred  his  own  taste  to  that  of  his  mistress. 
But  Lydia  with  good-humored  peremptoriness  made 
short  work  of  such  absurdities,  and  a  few  days  later 
called  the  two  chattels  into  the  parlor,  where  Mr.  Rob- 
bins  with  smiling  face  and  book  in  hand  stood  ready 
to  marry  them. 

The  ceremony  over,  and  an  awkward  pause  ensuing, 
the  parson  said  with  grave  jocularity :  "  Salute  your 
bride,  Pompey  !  "  But  he,  after  one  glance  at  the  sable 
expectant  face,  stepped  back,  and  executing  a  marvelous 
bow,  replied  :  "  Arter  you  is  manners  fer  me,  Mas'r 
Bobbins, "  and  poor  Sylvia  was  not  saluted  at  all.  But 
she  had  a  new  gown,  a  big  wedding  cake,  and  a  hus- 
band, so  no  complaints  were  heard. 

A  few  months  later,  Nathaniel  Goodwin  thought  best 
to  send  Pompey  to  sea,  in  a  short-handed  schooner,  and 
he  was  away  for  a  year  or  so.  Returning  unexpectedly, 
he  sauntered  up  from  the  wharf  and  around  the  house  to 
the  old  stoop,  where  years  before  he  had  lain  on  his 
stomach  to  hear  Uncle  Quasho's  story  of  his  kidnap- 
ping. Here  he  found  Sylvia  busy  in  the  wash-tub, 
from  which,  at  sound  of  footsteps,  she  turned  her  head 
without  removing  her  hands  ;  recognizing  her  husband 
she  resumed  her  rubbing,  saying  carelessly,  — 
Dat  you,  Pompey  !    Got  back,  ain't  you  ?  " 

"  Got  back  fer  shore.  Well,  Sylvy,  how 's  you  fin' 
yerse'f  ?" 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LeBARON  REJOICED.  273 


Indipperent,  t'ank  you,  Pompey.  How 's  you  he'lf  ?  '* 
"  Fusrate." 

And  seating  himself  upon  the  step,  Pompey  helped 
himself  to  apples  from  a  basket  standing  near,  and  eat- 
ing them  in  generous  bites,  threw  the  cores  to  the  ducks 
who  waddled  and  quacked  about  the  steps,  precisely  as 
their  ancestors  had  done. 

Sylvia  washed,  and  sung  in  her  sweet  shrill  voice 
one  of  Tate  and  Brady's  hymns,  whose  melody  attracted 
Marcy  from  her  play  by  the  kitchen  fire,  and  brought 
her  toddling  out.  At  sight  of  the  child,  an  instinct  of 
politeness  moved  in  Sylvia's  heart,  and  breaking  off  her 
hymn  but  not  stopping  her  washing  she  remarked :  — 

"  I  '11  make  you  'quainted  wid  Marcy,  Pompey. 
Done  got  her  baptize  inter  de  chu'ch." 

"  Sho !  "  replied  the  father,  pausing  with  a  half  an 
apple  in  his  mouth,  to  contemplate  his  offspring. 
"  S'pec's  Miss  Lyddy  awful  tickled  to  get  'nodder  nig- 
ger wi'out  payin'  fer  her." 

But  this  is  a  digression,  and  we  come  back  to  the 
statement  that  Phyllis  and  Prince  had  now  become 
Goodwin  servants,  while  Pompey  with  Sylvia  and 
Marcy  were  made  over  to  Doctor  LeBaron,  who  re- 
tained Quasho  as  his  personal  and  confidential  attendant 
to  the  day  of  his  death. 

He  it  is  who,  with  white  head  but  a  vigorous  and 
peremptory  step,  now  appears  at  the  kitchen  door. 

"  Folks  is  jes'  here,  Aun'  Phyllis." 
Sho !    How  many  dis  time.  Quash  ?  " 

"  Fur 's  I  kin  make  out,  dis  'stallment  is  Mis'  Joe 
dat  was,  an  Mas'  Joe's  Mis'  Sally,  an'  her  husban'  Mas' 
Hazen,  an'  a  picaninny  or  two,  an'  Mas'  Lem  from 
Mattapoisett  an'  he  bride,  I  s'pose  de  young  mistis  is. 


274  DR.  Lebaron  and  his  daughters. 


Any  way  dey 's  close  aboard,  jes'  a-stoppin'  to  pass  de 
time  o'  day  wid  Mas'  Bart's  folks,  an'  Mas'  Doctor  sen' 
me  in  to  tell  you." 

"  Now  wa'n't  it  a  mussy  I  done  got  dat  cake  all 
tucked  up  nice  in  de  oven  an'  de  door  chock  tight ! " 
ejaculated  Phyllis,  hurriedly  washing  her  hands  and 
wiping  them  upon  the  tow  roller-towel.  Now,  you  Sylvy, 
don'  you  look  tor'st  dat  oven  till  I  come  back,  but  gib 
you  best  'tention  to  de  dinner,  an'  soon  as  dat  Marcy  o' 
yourn  come  in  sen'  her  up  chamber  ter  see  if  Miss  Prissy 
don'  wan'  some  arrant  did." 

And  Phyllis,  who  had  hurriedly  tied  on  a  gorgeous 
new  bandanna  turban,  hastened  upstairs  to  see  that  all 
was  ready  for  the  guests,  who  were  to  crowd  not  only 
the  doctor's  house  but  that  next  one,  once  the  home  of 
Joseph  and  his  wife,  but  since  his  death,  of  his  brother 
Bartlett  LeBaron  and  his  family.  Joseph's  widow, 
whom  we  remember  as  Sarah  Leonard,  had  in  her 
widowhood  found  a  home  at  Haverhill,  where  her 
daughter  Sarah,  at  the  age  of  fifteen,  was  married  to 
William  Hazen  and  went  to  live  in  Newburyport. 

But  when  stirring  Lydia  Goodwin  came  over  to  her 
father's  house  to  arrange  with  him  about  Priscilla's 
wedding,  she  found  him  resolved  upon  one  point  around 
which  all  other  arrangements  were  to  be  adjusted. 
Every  one  of  his  sons  and  daughters,  and  every  one  of 
their  children,  was  to  be  invited  to  spend  a  week  as 
guests  of  the  head  of  the  house,  and  those  for  whom 
room  could  not  be  found  in  the  family  mansion  he 
wished  to  have  invited  by  Lydia,  and  by  Bartlett,  or  as 
a  last  resort  to  be  placed  at  the  house  of  S'uth'ard  How- 
land,  who  was  now  to  be  reckoned  as  one  of  the  fam- 
ily, since  Isaac  LeBaron  was  at  last  to  marry  Mai^tha 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LeBARON  REJOICED.  275 


Howland  on  the  same  day  that  PriselUa  married 
Hammatt. 

"  I  want  to  see  them  all,  Lyddy,  all,"  reiterated  her 
father.  "  I  want  to  judge  for  myself  whether  I  Ve  been 
a  benefactor  to  my  race  or  not,  before  I  leave  the  world. 
Planting  trees  is  all  very  well,  but  I  have  planted  a 
family,  and  I  want  to  review  it  now  that  all  is  over.'' 

"  Over,  father !  You  're  not  ailing  again,  are  you  ? 
Why  don't  you  take  some  physic  ?  " 

"Throw  physic  to  the  dogs,  Lyddy,  but  don't  let 
them  lap  it  up,  poor  fellows." 

"Why  father,  you  always  gave  physic  to  sick  folk 
while  you  practiced,  did  n't  you  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  abundance  of  it,  Lyddy,  abundance  of  it." 

"Then  why  not  treat  yourself  as  well  as  your  pa- 
tients, father  ?  " 

"  I  treat  myself  better,  child,  and  let  it  alone.  I 've 
seen  the  folly  of  it,  and  I  wish  you  could  see  the  folly 
of  a  woman's  trying  to  argue.  Sit  you  down  now  and 
make  out  a  list  of  invitations,  and  Pris  shall  write  them 
out  in  her  pretty  Italian  hand." 

"Well,  of  course  there's  Mr.  Goodwin  and  myself 
and  our  children,  with  Nat's  wife,  and  my  Lyddy  is  en- 
gaged to  Thomas  Lothrop." 

"  Never  mind  him,  I 'm  not  responsible  for  him,  but 
—  yes,  Lyddy  may  bring  him,  just  to  make  the  little 
witch  happy;  and  Nat's  wife,  she  was  Molly  Jackson 
was  n't  she  ?  " 

"  Why  of  course,  father." 

"  Excuse  me,  my  dear,  but  after  remembering  all  the 
marriages  of  one's  own  children,  one's  mind  is  apt  to 
wander  a  little  when  it  comes  to  the  next  generation. 
Well,  there 's  you  and  Goodwin,  and  your  Nat  and  his 


276  DR,  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


Molly,  and  your  Lyddy  and  Tom  Lothrop,  and  your 
other  children.  Then  comes  Mary  and  William  Brad- 
ford and  their  children,  they  '11  all  come,  Bristol  is  not 
such  a  long  way  from  Plymouth.  Then  Hannah  and 
Ben  Goodwin  will  come  down  from  Boston,  and  Eliza- 
beth"— 

"  Teresa  comes  next,"  interrupted  Lydia,  but  her 
father  sadly  shook  his  head. 

"  I  shall  never  see  Tressy  again.  She  and  Lazarus 
will  not  come  from  Barbadoes,  and  Joseph  is  dead, 
but  you  must  send  for  his  little  girl,  who  married  a  Ha- 
zen,  t  'other  day,  Sally  her  name  was  I  remember,  after 
her  mother  Parson  Leonard's  daughter,  sweet  soul." 

^'  Yes,  father,  the  Hazens." 
Well,  Bartlett  lives  next  door,  and  that  finishes  your 
mother's  children.  Then  comes  Isaac,  who  is  to  be 
married  at  Rowland's,  and  then  come  on  here  for  his 
su]3per,  and  Elizabeth  Robbins  with  her  Ammy  Ruhamas 
senior  and  junior,  —  I  shall  be  as  glad  to  see  Bess  again, 
as  of  anything  in  this  world ;  then  Lem  and  his  young 
wife  will  come  from  Mattapoisett,  —  perhaps  Pris  will 
like  to  have  him  help  Parson  Robbins  to  tie  the  knot,  — 
and  poor  Frank  is  dead  in  South  Carolina,  and  only 
Billy  is  left  of  the  boys,  who  but  yesterday  were  the 
torment  of  the  town.  Well,  well,  —  yes,  get  them  all 
together,  Lyddy,  every  one  of  them,  and  every  chick 
and  child,  and  even  their  sweethearts ;  didn't  I  hear 
that  Billy  had  one?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  he  is  promised  to  Sarah  Churchill,  daughter 
of  John  Churchill  and  Sarah  Cole,  you  know.  She  has 
a  fine  lot  of  land  on  Main  Street  tacked  to  her  petticoat, 
from  her  mother's  side." 

"  Oh,  well,  ask  her  too,  and  now,  Lyddy,  I 'm  going 
into  my  study  for  a  while,  so  good-by." 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LeBARON  REJOICED.  277 


Although  so  abruptly  dismissed,  Mrs.  Goodwin  lost  no 
time  in  injured  feeling,  but  carefully  revising  her  list, 
she  went  to  seek  Priscilla,  and  direct  her  to  write  out 
the  invitations  in  her  best  style,  but  found  her  reading  a 
letter  with  deepest  attention. 

"  That 's  Sally  Sever's  handwriting,"  exclaimed  the 
elder  sister  in  a  detective  sort  of  tone  ;  "  what  mad  prank 
is  she  proposing  now  ?  " 

"  Mad  prank  ? "  repeated  Priscilla,  folding  up  her 
letter  and  putting  it  in  the  bosom  of  her  baby-waisted 
cotton  gown,  "  Well,  she 's  going  to  be  married,  that  *s 
all." 

"  I  think  father  ought  to  look  over  those  letters,  — 
I  Ve  more  than  a  mind  to  tell  him  so."  And  Lydia,  who 
was  thirty  years  older  than  her  pretty  sister,  stood  and 
glared  upon  her  with  such  severity  that  Priscilla,  blush- 
ing and  laughing,  ran  out  of  the  room  to  lock  up  hep 
friend's  letter,  which,  lying  here  before  me  yellow  and 
tattered,  yet  forever  young,  proves  that  girls  were  just 
as  merry,  and  just  as  silly,  a  hundred  and  twenty  years 
ago  as  they  are  to-day.  But  in  her  haste  Priscilla  had 
dropped  another  paper,  which  Lydia  pounced  upon,  and 
read  aloud  with  slow  and  scornful  emphasis.  It  was 
headed  — 

"  On  the  friendship  of  Miss  Hannah  Rowland  and 
Priscilla  LeBaron,"  and  ran  as  follows  :  — 

"  Hail,  beauteous  maydes,  whome  friendship  binds 
In  softest  yet  in  strongest  ties  ; 
Soft  as  the  temper  of  your  minds, 
Strong"  as  the  lustre  of  your  eyes. 
So  Venus'  doves  in  copies  fly, 
And  friendly  steer  their  equal  course, 
Whose  feathers  cupid's  shafts  supply, 
And  wing  them  with  resistless  farce. 

I 


278  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


Thus  as  you  move  love's  tender  flame 
Like  that  of  friendship  paler  bums ; 
Both,  our  divided  pasion  claim, 
And  friends  and  rivals  prove  by  turns. 
Then  rest  yourselves  and  bless  mankind. 
Friendship  so  curst  no  more  pursue, 
In  Wedlock's  rosy  bow'rs  you  '11  find 
The  joys  of  Love  and  friendship  too.*' 

Beneath  was  written,  — 

"  It  is  the  first  time  my  muse  has  ever  break  silence, 
but"  — 

"Sister  Lyddy!  Aren't  you  ashamed  of  youself, 
reading  other  people's  letters,  and,  —  give  it  to  me  !  " 
And  with  much  the  air  of  an  angry  ring-dove,  Priscilla, 
who  had  flown  into  the  room  in  time  to  catch  the  tone 
of  the  reader,  snatched  the  paper  from  her  hand,  and 
stood  gazing  at  her  with  eyes  full  of  that  unlimited 
scorn,  wherewith  young  people  regard  the  misdemeanors 
of  their  elders. 

"  You  tell  Abr'am  Hammatt  I 'm  as  sorry  for  him  as 
ever  I  was  for  the  toothache,"  replied  Lydia,  quietly, 
and  leaving  the  matter  of  the  invitations  for  the  moment, 
ehe  went  out  to  talk  with  Phyllis,  but  safe  upon  the  other 
Bide  of  the  door  she  muttered,  — 

"  Hannah  Howland's  all  well  enough,  but  she  is  n't  a 
patch  on  Priscilla  LeBaron  !  " 

However,  the  invitations  were  written  that  night,  and 
sent  by  friendly  hands  or  paid  messengers,  for  this  was 
before  the  post-rider  had  been  seen  in  Plymouth,  and 
when  the  day  arrived,  the  guests  assembled,  a  bright 
and  merry  crowd  of  every  age,  from  the  doctor  himself, 
to  his  youngest  grandson,  a  sturdy  little  fellow  in  the 
arms  of  Sarah  Hazen,  at  whom  her  grandfather  looked 
long  and  often,  not  so  much  because  she  was  a  remark- 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LeDARON  REJOICED.  279 


ably  beautiful  woman,  as  because  through  her  father  she 
had  inherited  the  face  of  the  doctor's  first  wife,  and  the 
old  man,  looking  at  those  dark  blue  eyes,  rosy  mouth, 
and  complexion  of  cream  and  roses,  albeit  joined  to  a 
resolute  line  of  brow  and  chin,  saw  the  vision  of  his 
own  lost  youth,  and  the  dream  that  had  seemed  to  him 
in  those  days  a  vision  direct  from  Paradise. 

"  You  have  a  handsome  wife,  William  Hazen,"  said 
he,  as  the  young  man  came  up  to  make  some  courteous 
remark  to  his  host. 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  as  good  as  she  is  handsome,"  replied 
the  happy  husband. 

"  She  tells  me  you  are  thinking  of  removing  to  Nova 
Scotia.    What 's  that  for  ?  " 

"  Partly,  sir,  because,  like  the  man  in  the  Bible,  I  have 
bought  a  piece  of  land,  and  must  needs  go  and  look  after 
it,  that  is  to  say  I  have  invested  largely  in  lands  near 
St.  John,  but  partly  because  I  do  not  sympathize  with 
the  spirit  of  rebellion  and  anarchy  which  seems  taking 
possession  of  this  land." 

Hm  !  A  Tory,  are  you  ?  "  demanded  the  doctor, 
with  a  fine  smile,  and  producing  his  snuff-box.  William 
Hazen  looked  at  him  inquiringly,  then  making  the  most 
of  his  stately  figure,  answered  gravely,  — 

"  I  am  loyal  to  my  King,  Dr.  LeBaron." 
Hm  —  yes,  —  well,  I  would  go  and  look  after  that 
piece  of  land,  if  I  were  you,  and  hark'y,  grandson-in- 
law,  I 'd  go  pretty  soon.    Do  you  take  snuiff  ?  " 

"No,  sir,  — I"  — 

"  No  ?  Well,  I  do."  And  the  doctor  inhaled  a  pinch 
with  great  relish.  But  in  his  will  he  left  the  sum  of 
fifty  Spanish  milled  dollars  to  Sarah,  wife  of  William 
Hazen. 


280  DR,  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


And  so  the  evening  came,  and  with  it  the  Rev.  Lem- 
uel LeBaron,  from  Mattapoisett,  who,  as  it  were,  held 
the  candle  for  Dr.  Robbins,  as  he  made  fast  the  knot 
which  only  death  was  to  dissever  between  Abraham  and 
Priscilla,  while  Isaac  LeBaron  and  his  hour-old  bride 
stood  by  and  shared  the  blessing  and  the  festal  joy, 
so  mingled  of  family  affection  and  that  strange  new  ele- 
ment that  enters  into  family  life  when  one  member  calls 
upon  all  the  rest  to  rejoice  with  her  because  she  has  found 
one  whom  she  loves  far  better  than  them  all. 

Next  to  his  two  new  married  children  stood  the  doc- 
tor, leaning  upon  Margaret's  shoulder,  and  unconsciously 
presenting  a  picture  which  those  who  saw  it  loved  to 
speak  of  in  after  years,  describing  with  loving  reverence 
the  majestic  and  unbowed  figure  of  the  old  man  with 
his  pallid  face  and  snow-white  hair  and  the  keen  blue 
eyes,  upon  which  had  passed  no  touch  of  time,  and  the 
noble  features  shrewd  and  kindly,  yet  instinct  with  a 
nobility  that  upon  the  face  of  his  grandsire  had  no 
doubt  been  hauteur.  Contrasting  with  this  stately  figure 
the  piquant  loveliness  of  the  girl  shone  forth  like  that 
of  some  sweet  bright  blossom  nestling  beside  a  stately 
ruin ;  her  rich  coloring  contrasting  with  his  pallor,  her 
clustering  and  audacious  curls  with  the  soft  whiteness  of 
his  hair,  her  lissome  and  dainty  figure  with  his  grand  im- 
mobility, and  the  vivid  darkness  of  her  eyes  with  the 
frosty  blue  of  his. 

Mas'  an'  Miss  Margot  looks  as  ef 't  was  dey  was  de 
ishow,  an'  Mis'  Pris  an'  Mas'  Isaac  an'  deir  goin's  on  was 
jes'  a  kind  o'  entertainment,  same  as  de  daughter  o' 
Herodias'  dance  'fore  Herod,"  observed  Pompey  to 
Quasho,  as  the  two  prepared  to  bring  in  the  great  salvers 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LeBARON  REJOICED.  281 


of  refreshments  to  be  served  as  a  sort  of  prelude  to  the 
wedding  supper. 

"Don'  think  Mas'  Isaac  look  much  like  Herodias' 
daughter,  an'  I  don'  know  as  Mas'  Doctor 's  killed  more 
lil'  chillen  dan  any  odder  gen'man  in  de  parfesion," 
replied  Quasho  sourly,  for  the  poor  fellow's  heart  was 
heavy  in  seeing  this  great  family  gathering  and  his 
master's  thoughtful  looks  at  one  and  another. 

"  'Pears  like  he  study  in'  how  dey  '11  look  walking 
mourners  to  his  f  un'ral,"  muttered  he,  as  waiting  for  Pom- 
pey  to  precede  him,  he  gazed  through  the  crowd  at  the 
master  in  whom  his  own  life  was  bound  up,  and  the 
whips  and  syllabubs  upon  his  tray  had  to  wait  until  the 
faithful  old  hands  had  dashed  away  the  tears  blinding 
the  bistre-colored  eyes. 

"  Dere 's  no  fool  like  an  ole  fool,"  muttered  he,  once 
more  raising  the  salver  and  preparing  to  enter  the  room  ; 
but  a  light  step  sprang  up  the  steps,  and  a  blithe  voice, 
whose  accents  of  merry  mockery  he  knew  full  well, 
replied  :  — 

"  Thou  'rt  always  right,  my  Qaasho,  but  lament  no 
more,  for  my  wisdom  hath  come  to  help  out  your  folly, 
and  all  will  be  well." 

"  Oh,  Lordy !  "  gasped  Quash.  "  Now  de  las'  one 's 
a-goin',  an*  mas'r  an'  me 'd  better  be  goin'  too."  And 
once  more  laying  down  his  tray,  he  stepped  to  the  par- 
lor door  and  sonorously  announced  — 

"  Mas'  Cap'n  de  Montyno."  And  only  one  person 
in  the  room  was  not  taken  by  surprise. 

Later  in  the  evening,  sitting  in  the  little  study  with 
his  host,  the  new-comer  said,  — 

"  Yes,  sir,  if  England  pushes  the  matter  to  an  issue, 


282  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


my  friend  the  Marquis  de  Lafayette  and  a  legion  of 
brave  fellows  are  coming  over  to  fight  upon  this  soil  for 
the  liberty  and  justice  banished  from  our  own  fair  land  ; 
but  I  —  I  could  not  wait  for  events,  or  for  Lafayette. 
I  am  here  now,  to  fight  if  need  be  to  the  death  against 
every  foe  for  liberty,  justice,  and  —  Margot !  " 


CHAPTER  XXXL 


THE   DOGS    OF   WAR   LET  LOOSE. 

It  was  Sunday  in  January  of  1775,  and  the  people 
of  Plymouth  were  assembling  in  their  meeting-house 
at  the  foot  of  Burying  Hill,  the  same  house  in  whose 
construction  Parson  Leonard  had  so  mightily  rejoiced. 
The  congregation  embraced  nearly  all  the  adult  inhab- 
itants except  the  handful  who  still  held  out  in  the  schism, 
occasioned  by  Mr.  Leonard's  fanaticism,  and  who  occu- 
pied a  house  in  King  Street,  or,  as  we  call  it,  Middle 
Street,  much  to  the  discomfiture  of  Deacon  Spooner,  who 
wanted  their  land  to  put  into  his  garden,  and  got  it  too, 
when  the  malcontents  decided  in  1783  to  come  home 
again  previous  to  that  more  vital  division  ensuing  at 
the  death  of  the  Rev.  Chandler  Robbins,  when  the  men 
of  his  way  of  thinking  drew  off  and  became  the  Church 
of  the  Pilgrimage,  and  the  majority  became  Unitarians 
naively  calling  themselves  the  First  Church  in  Plymouth. 

Shades  of  Brewster  and  Faunce  and  Cotton  and  Rob- 
bins,  what  say  ye  ? 

But  in  1775,  the  First  Church,  still  Orthodox  in  name 
and  tenets,  assembled  itself  beneath  its  hundred-foot- 
high  spire  with  a  gilded  weather -cock  on  top,  and, 
muffled  in  great-coats,  cloaks,  shawls,  and  furs,  for  no 
sybarite  had  as  yet  suggested  fires  in  a  meeting-house, 
prepared  itself  to  listen  with  a  divided  mind  to  Parson 
Robbins'  eloquence.    A  divided  mind,  for  on  Saturday 


284  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


evening,  despite  the  Sabbatical  severity  which  made 
that  period  more  sacred  even  than  Sunday  evening,  it 
had  been  first  rumored,  and  then  boldly  affirmed,  that 
George  Watson,  that  wealthy  and  honored  townsman 
whose  magnificent  linden  trees,  on  North  Street,  we  still 
admire,  had  accepted  a  commission  from  the  Crown  as 
Mandamus  Councillor,  tempted  to  it  no  doubt  by  Gov- 
ernor Hutchinson,  whose  son  Elisha  was  recently  mar- 
ried to  Watson's  daughter  Mary. 

"  He  rode  down  from  Boston  yesterday,  carrying  the 
accursed  parchment  in  his  pocket,"  said  one  man  to  an- 
other, and  the  other  muttered,  "Judas  !  " 

For  in  those  days,  the  man  who  accepted  office  under 
the  British  government  was  held  in  Plymouth  some- 
what more  in  abhorrence  than  was  the  Jew  who  became 
publican  and  collected  the  Roman  tax  from  his  country- 
men, and  not  all  of  Colonel  Watson's  honorable  ante- 
cedents, or  the  high  position  of  his  family,  or  his  wealth, 
or  his  stately  presence,  or  his  genial  fellowship  and 
courtesy  to  friends  and  neighbors  during  a  life  of  more 
than  fifty  years,  could  counterbalance  the  patriotism 
that  like  a  sacred  fire  burned  in  the  hearts  of  the  men 
of  Plymouth  already  organizing  to  fight  for  the  liberty 
their  Pilgrim  sires  had  conquered  for  them  before. 

From  mouth  to  mouth  the  bitter  tidings  were  spread, 
until  even  upon  the  church  steps  a  stern  resolution  was 
taken,  and  instead  of  waiting  there  as  was  the  custom 
until  the  minister  had  gone  in  and  the  bell  ceased  toll- 
ing, every  man  passed  into  the  church  and  took  his  seat 
at  head  of  his  pew.  Through  the  midst  gently  stepped 
the  pastor,  wondering  somewhat  at  this  innovation ;  the 
bell  clanged  out  its  last  summons,  and  with  it  the  stately 
figure  of  the  Mandamus  Councillor,  dressed  in  the  rich 


THE  DOGS  OF  WAR  LET  LOOSE.  285 


clothes  and  laces  proper  to  a  gentleman  of  that  period, 
carrying  his  three-cornered  hat  and  gold-headed  cane  in 
one  hand,  passed  up  the  aisle,  the  wintry  sunlight  strik- 
ing through  the  southern  windows  upon  his  well-pow- 
dered head,  his  mulberry-colored  coat,  and  the  delicate 
lace  ruffles  at  his  breast  and  wrists.  Those  who  looked 
at  his  face  said  that  it  was  white  as  his  hair,  and  that 
his  dark  eyes  had  in  them  something  of  the  hunted  and 
desperate  look  of  the  stag  who  stands  at  bay  ready  to 
hopelessly  fight  to  the  death. 

A  sudden  silence  fell  upon  the  place,  something 
deeper  and  more  pregnant  than  the  reverent  stillness  of 
the  house  of  God ;  even  the  minister  risen  in  his  place 
to  make  the  opening  prayer  paused,  and  stood  gazing 
down  upon  that  imposing  figure  as  if  it  were  that  of 
some  messenger  to  be  heeded  even  before  the  call  to 
prayer.  Stumbling  a  little  as  he  entered  his  pew,  the 
Councillor  dropped  his  cane,  and  as  if  the  clang  were  a 
preconcerted  signal,  almost  every  man  in  that  house 
arose,  opened  his  pew  door,  and  forming  two  by  two  in 
solemn  procession,  passed  down  the  aisle  and  out  of  the 
church,  one  pausing  at  the  door  to  say  aloud,  — 

"  We  cannot  worship  with  Judas." 

The  man  so  rebuked,  so  degraded  from  the  high  po- 
sition his  but  yesterday,  stood  and  looked  about  him, 
his  pale  face  growing  ashen  to  the  lips,  his  eyes  filled 
with  an  agony  of  pain  and  shame. 

A  sea  of  frightened  women's  faces,  of  wondering 
children's  eyes,  and  yes,  —  a  few  men,  their  angry,  yet 
uncertain  looks  turned  upon  him.  Edward  Winslow, 
John  Watson,  Gideon  White,  Deacon  James  Foster,  an 
apothecary  named  Dix,  and  two  or  three  more,  stood 
here  and  there  undetermined  what  action  to  take,  while 


286  DE.  lebaron  and  his  daughters. 


the  minister  above  their  heads  said  something  to  which 
no  one  listened.  A  long,  dreadful  moment  passed,  and 
then  the  Councillor,  who  had  not  sat  down  at  all,  opened 
the  door  and  very  differently  from  the  way  he  had 
come  up  the  aisle  walked  down  it,  and  out  upon  the 
steps,  where  knots  of  men  stood  talking  in  suppressed 
but  vehement  voices.  As  he  appeared,  those  in  liis 
path  drew  aside,  but  none  looked  at  him,  none  spoke, 
and  passing  through  their  midst  with  head  uplifted  and 
scornful  eyes,  Watson  went  his  way  down  the  hill  and 
along  the  Main  Street,  and  through  North  to  his  own 
house,  nor  was  he  seen  again  until  the  next  morning, 
when  he  rode  out  of  the  town  upon  the  Boston  road, 
and  his  neighbor  James  Warren,  with  generous  alacrity, 
told  every  one  that  Mr.  Watson  had  decided  not  to  ac- 
cept the  office  of  Mandamus  Councillor,  and  was  gone 
to  Boston  to  say  as  much  to  Governor  Hutchinson. 

"  And  right  glad  am  I  to  hear  it,"  said  Isaac  Lothrop, 
heartily,  when  the  news  was  told  to  him.  "George 
Watson  is  a  man  one  has  to  respect,  and  if  he  hold 
opinions  one  cannot  respect,  it  throws  everything  into 
confusion." 

But  once  convinced  of  his  error,  Watson  was  too  brave 
and  too  just  a  man  to  try  to  disguise  his  conversion, 
and  when  summoned  with  about  a  dozen  more  to  account 
to  the  Committee  of  Vigilance  appointed  by  the  town, 
for  his  opinions  and  action,  he  at  once  subscribed  the 
declaration  of  loyalty  to  the  common  interests  and 
obedience  to  the  provisional  government,  demanded  of 
him,  and  became  in  the  end  a  loyal  and  honest  patriot, 
although  never  a  democrat  in  principle  or  practice. 

But  from  this  time  began  a  new  epoch  in  the  social 
history  of  Plymouth ;  the  patriots,  or  Whigs,  as  they 


THE  DOGS  OF  WAR  LET  LOOSE.  287 


were  called,  headed  by  James  Warren,  whose  name  was 
to  become  so  famous  in  the  annals  of  the  Revolution, 
held  the  government  of  the  place,  and  demanded  that 
all  men  should  range  themselves  openly  upon  the  side 
of  resolute  resistance,  armed  and  deadly  if  necessary,  to 
the  tyrannous  policy  of  Great  Britain  ;  should  subscribe 
to  certain  formulas  of  allegiance,  and  be  ready  to  an- 
swer to  military  summons.  A  small  minority,  perhaps 
a  dozen  men  in  all,  set  themselves  in  bitter  opposition 
to  all  this.  They  found  nothing  oppressive  in  the 
Stamp  Act,  or  the  Tea  Tax,  or  the  Boston  Massacre : 
they  called  their  townsmen  rebels  and  insurgents,  and 
prophesied  their  speedy  punishment  and  suppression ; 
they  loved  to  speak  in  public  of  the  divine  right  of 
kings,  and  especially  of  his  majesty  George  III.  and  the 
royal  family,  as  objects  of  reverence  and  awe.  From 
the  club  room  and  the  taverns  the  dispute  penetrated 
to  the  church,  and  Deacon  Foster,  in  an  animated 
discussion  at  church-meeting  over  a  sermon  of  Parson 
Robbins,  from  the  text  "  Put  not  your  faith  in  princes," 
called  his  townsmen  a  *'pack  of  murderous  rebels," 
whereupon  Deacon  Spoon er  rose,  and  mildly  inquired 
if  "  Brother  Foster  "  knew  what  was  the  precise  sin 
whereby  Moses  lost  his  entrance  to  the  Promised  Land' 
He  was  too  much  set  up  in  his  own  opinion,"  re- 
turned Foster  readily  ;  but  Spooner,  who  was  celebrated 
for  his  courteous  and  winning  manners,  gently  re- 
plied :  — 

"  Nay,  brother,  but  it  seems  to  me  it  was  because  he 
called  the  Lord's  people  rebels,  and  so  proved  himself  a 
rebel  to  his  own  Master." 

And  then  John  Churchill  arose  with  glowing  face  and 
tremulous  voice,  to  relate  how  Deacon  Foster  had  called 


288    DR.  LeBARON  and  his  DAUGHTERS. 


Churchill's  wife  by  a  very  bad  name,  because  she  up- 
held the  patriot  course  in  his  presence,  and  to  state  that 
he  for  one  would  never  sit  down  again  with  him  at  the 
Lord's  table,  until  he  had  apologized;  and  one  after 
another  joining  in  this  decree  of  excommunication,  the 
pastor  formally  requested  the  deacon  to  abstain  from 
presenting  himself  for  communion  until  he  had  publicly 
professed  contrition  for  his  abusive  language,  both  to 
the  patriots  and  to  Mrs.  Churchill. 

From  words,  the  warfare  came  to  deeds,  and  the 
baser  sort  of  men  in  both  parties  seized  the  opportunity 
for  inflicting  upon  each  other  those  ferocious  practical 
jokes  which  remind  one  of  the  sports  of  wild  beasts. 

A  tory  named  Dunbar,  bringing  the  carcass  of  an  ox 
to  market  in  spite  of  warning,  was  tied  up  in  it,  and  so 
carted  out  of  the  town ;  some  persons  were  tarred  and 
feathered ;  many  were  brought  to  the  liberty  pole  in  the 
town  square,  and  forced  to  sign  a  recantation  of  their 
opinions  and  language.  One  Sunday  morning,  as  the 
men  stood  collected  before  the  church,  a  noted  Tory  of 
the  town  appeared  among  them,  hatless,  breathless,  and 
^stammering  with  excitement,  holding  something  in  both 
*tiands  and  calling  out :  — 

"  A  miracle  —  a  miracle !  Heaven  has  declared  itself 
openly  on  our  side !  " 

"  What  is  this  unseemly  disturbance  upon  the  Lord's 
Day  ?  "  sternly  demanded  Parson  Robbins,  turning  back 
from  the  step  he  had  already  mounted. 

"  Look  for  yourself,  parson  ;  look  and  read  !  " 

"  What  is  this  ?  A  hen's  egg  ?  "  asked  Robbins,  be- 
wildered, as  his  parishioner  carefully  laid  the  object  in 
his  hand. 

"Yea,  warm  from  the  nest;  I  just  gathered  it,'* 


THE  DOGS  OF  WAR  LET  LOOSE.  28P 


panted  the  owner,  who,  to  do  him  justice,  was  perfectly 
sincere. 

"  It  is  curious  —  most  curious,'*  muttered  the  minister, 
closely  examining  the  egg  ;  and  then  raising  his  head  he 
said  aloud,  "It  is  quite  true,  my  friends,  that  there  are 
words  traced  apparently  beneath  the  surface  of  thi? 
shell,  and  they  read :  "  *  O  America,  America,  Howe 
shall  be  thy  conqueror.'    Look  for  yourselves." 

All  crowded  around,  and  the  egg  passed  from  hand 
to  hand,  most  faces  growing  pallid  and  disturbed  at 
what  the  Tories  loudly  claimed  as  proof  of  the  Divine 
will  and  intention.  But  Deacon  Spooner,  after  a  close 
examination,  stepped  up  to  James  Warren  and  Isaac 
Lothrop  with  his  usual  ingratiating  little  bow  and  said, 
"  It  seems  to  me,  brethren,  that  there  is  a  little  knot 
(not)  in  the  shell  just  here  between  '  shall '  and  '  be,' 
proving  as  I  fancy,  that  this  is  one  of  those  mysterious 
sayings  which  the  foolish  will  seize  upon  blindly,  but 
wiser  men  will  ponder  until  they  find  its  hidden  mean- 
ing." 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  quite  follow  the  deacon,"  re* 
marked  Jacob  Cook,  who  had  pushed  himself  into  the 
little  group,  "but  it  don't  seem  likely  to  me  that  the 
Almighty  would  preach  through  an  old  hen.  I  guess 
we 'd  better  go  into  church  and  listen  to  Mr.  Robbins." 

"Very  sensible  advice.  Cook,"  replied  Lothrop,  "and 
I  for  one  shall  act  upon  it." 

It  was  some  months  after  this  that  General  Gage, 
requested  by  the  Tories  or  Loyalists  of  Marshfield  to 
protect  them,  sent  down  a  detachment  of  troops  called 
the  Queen's  Guards,  under  Captain  Balfour,  and  this 
gentleman  proving  a  genial  and  well-bred  companion^ 
was  received  with  open  arms,  not  only  into  the  Loyal 


290     DR  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


ist  society  of  Marshfield,  Duxbury,  and  Kingston,  but 
Plymouth,  where  he  and  his  officers  often  presented 
themselves,  greatly  to  the  annoyance  of  the  patriots, 
and  to  the  disapproval  of  the  cooler  heads  among  the 
Tories,  who  feared  popular  tumults ;  and  not  without 
reason,  as  was  seen  upon  one  occasion  when  a  member 
of  the  Committee  of  Vigilance,  finding  an  officer  annoy- 
ing a  young  girl  in  the  streets,  used  some  personal  vio- 
lence toward  him,  whereupon  the  officer  drew  his  sword 
and  menaced  the  Vigilant,  who,  however,  soon  drew 
to  his  assistance  a  crowd  of  eager  patriots,  whose  threats 
seemed  so  serious  that  the  officer  sought  shelter  in  the 
shop  of  the  druggist  Dix,  and  would  have  escaped  at 
the  back,  but  found  a  detachment  of  Vigilants  await- 
ing him ;  returning  to  the  front  a  parley  was  called, 
and  in  the  end  the  officer  was  obliged  to  surrender  his 
sword,  which  was  immediately  broken  into  bits  beneath 
the  feet  of  the  patriots,  who  then  retired  quietly,  leav- 
ing the  mortified  lieutenant  at  liberty  to  retire. 

Soon  after  this,  Balfour  and  his  officers  were  invited 
to  dine  with  Edward  Winslow,  in  his  fine  new  house  on 
North  Street,  and  all  the  Tory  gentlemen  of  the  town 
were  summoned  to  meet  them.  The  dinner  set  at  the 
ultra  fashionable  hour  of  two  was  an  admirable  one,  for 
Mrs.  Edward  Winslow  was  Hannah  Howland,  and  so 
came  of  a  race  of  noted  housewives  and  delicate  cooks, 
in  the  days  when  no  lady  disdained  to  put  her  own 
hand  to  the  engine  of  man's  content  and  domestic  satis- 
faction. The  dinner  was  good,  and  the  wines  were 
good,  and  a  great  many  loyal  toasts  were  proposed  and 
honored,  until  at  last  Captain  Balfour  magnificently 
proposed  to  march  his  Queen's  Guards  into  Plymouth 
the  next  day,  and  take  measures  to  punish,  not  only 


THE  DOGS  OF  WAR  LET  LOOSE,  291 


those  rebels  who  had  molested  his  officer,  but  all  who 
declined  to  take  an  oath  of  allegiance  to  his  Majesty 
George  III.  Most  of  the  guests,  heated  with  wine  and 
the  pride  of  loyalty,  vociferously  applauded  this  resolu- 
tion, but  John  Watson,  sitting  next  to  Captain  Balfour, 
shook  his  head  and  remained  silent ;  the  captain  noted 
this  and  presently  inquired  in  a  low  voice :  — 

"  What  is  your  opinion,  Mr.  Watson,  upon  this  mat- 
ter?" 

"  I  do  not  want  to  see  the  war  begin  in  Plymouth," 
replied  Watson,  who  loved  his  wife,  the  beautiful  Lucia 
Marston,  and  his  little  children. 

"  You  think  the  rebels  will  fight !  "  exclaimed  the 
Englishman,  in  surprise. 

"  They  '11  fight  like  devils,  sir,"  replied  Watson,  with 
an  odd  mingling  of  pride  and  detestation  in  his  tone. 
But  although  the  Queen's  Guards  did  not  come  to  Plym- 
outh, Plymouth  shortly  after  this  went  to  them,  for  a 
rider  covered  with  dust  and  grime  galloped  his  spent 
horse  into  the  town  one  morning,  and  announced  the 
battle  of  Lexington  and  Concord,  told  of  Paul  Revere's 
ride  (fancy  the  hearing  it  as  the  news  of  the  day,  and 
not  as  a  legend!), told  of  the  "embattled  farmers  "  of 
Concord,  of  the  Percy's  ignominious  retreat,  and  of 
the  men  who,  slain  by  the  panic  of  their  own  retreat, 
fell  down  in  their  red  coats  beside  the  road  and  died  of 
heat  and  exhaustion,  or  fell  panting  among  the  fields  of 
finger-high  wheat  waving  in  the  soft  south  wind  of  that 
19th  of  April,  1775. 

"  Our  men  killed  !  Our  houses  burned !  "  cried  the 
patriots  of  Plymouth.  "  Then  it  is  time  for  us  to  take 
measures  with  these  gentlemen  at  Marshfield,  lest  they 
try  the  same  game  upon  us !  " 


292    DK  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


And  all  that  day  and  night  the  old  town  was  alive 
with  glancing  lights,  and  hurrying  men,  and  the  clash 
of  arms,  and  sobbing  prayers  of  women,  until  with  the 
morning  light  a  great  body  of  militia  and  volunteers, 
embracing  several  hundred  fishermen  then  in  port, 
marched  out  of  Plymouth  under  command  of  Colonel 
Theophilus  Cotton,  with  banners  flying,  drums  beating, 
bells  ringing,  and  all  the  town  on  foot  to  cheer  them, 
and  bid  godspeed. 

Perhaps  the  finest  company  in  the  regiment,  or  rather 
the  little  army,  for  as  it  passed  on  through  Kingston  and 
Duxbury,  its  dimensions  swelled  beyond  counting,  was 
one  commanded  by  Captain  Abraham  Hammatt,  whose 
noble  figure  and  majesty  of  port  were  so  great  that  a 
child  of  the  epoch  said  in  his  old  age  that  he  was  a 
big  lad  before  he  doubted  Captain  Hammatt's  being  the 
governor  of  the  State.  Above  his  head  waved  a  brave 
silken  banner  wrought  by  the  fingers  of  Priscilla  his 
wife,  and  in  its  shade  marched  not  only  his  own  work- 
men and  'prentice  lads,  but  sailors  who  had  served 
under  his  father  and  honored  the  name  of  Hammatt, 
and  many  of  his  townsmen,  who  would  not  have  taken 
the  word  of  command  from  less  honorable  and  trusted 
lips. 

Another  company  under  Captain  Nathaniel  Morton 
and  happy  in  the  services  of  Doctor  James  Thachei, 
proceeded  from  Marshfield  to  Roxbury,  and  joining 
the  provincial  army  gathered  there,  served  through  the 
war. 

But  the  great  Battle  of  Marshfield,  looming  like  a 
Fata  Morgana  upon  the  horizon,  was  doomed  never  to 
be  fought  except  in  that  fair  land  of  It-Might-Have-Been  ; 
for  General  Gage,  foreseeing  very  probably  the  action  of 


THE  DOGS  OF  WAR  LET  LOOSE.  293 


the  men  of  Plymouth,  sent  hasty  messengers  and  a  trans- 
port fleet  to  Marshfield,  so  that  when  the  Old  Colony 
force  marched  into  the  town,  the  Queen's  Guards  were 
hurriedly  embarking,  and  as  Colonel  Cotton  had  received 
no  orders  from  the  Provisional  Government  to  capture 
an  unresisting  foe,  he  simply  allowed  them  to  fly,  not 
vsdthout  a  gentle  allusion  or  two  on  the  part  of  some  of 
the  less  dignified  of  the  volunteers  to  the  swaggering 
and  insolent  conduct  of  the  Guards  during  their  late 
visit  to  Plymouth. 

And  so  the  dance  began,  and  the  untrained,  un- 
moneyed,  inexperienced  sons  of  the  Pilgrims  set  them- 
selves, as  their  fathers  had  done,  to  contend  for  the  Right 
against  the  Might  of  the  most  powerful  nation  in  the 
world,  and,  like  their  fathers,  to  succeed  in  gaining  what 
they  fought  for. 


CHAPTER  XXXIL 


"hurrah  for  DAWSON  !'* 

"  Good-morning,  Quash ;  fine  morning,  boy." 

"Yes,  Mas'  Nat,  berry  fine  mornin',  sah,  an'  'sense 
me,  sah,  you  berry  fine,  too." 

"  Well,  yes.  Quash,  yes,  I  suppose  a  uniform  is  a 
little  more  striking  than  citizen's  clothes.  You  see 
they  Ve  made  me  a  major.  Quash,  and  I 'm  going  up  to 
Cambridge  to-morrow  to  take  my  command.  How  — 
how  —  how  do  I  look,  Quash  ?  " 

"  Oh,  berry  gran',  Mas'  Nat,  berry  gran'  indeed ! 
Look  jes'  like  a  lion,  Mas'  Nat." 

"  A  lion,  you  dunderhead !  What  do  you  know  about 
lions  ?    You  never  saw  one." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  have,  Mas'  Nat,  seen  him  an*  hear  him 
sing,  often  'nough." 

"  When  you  were  a  baby  in  Africa  ?  " 

"  No,  mas',  but  jes'  here.  Ain'  dat  a  lion  Mas'  John 
Watson  bring  down  f 'um  Boston,  t'oder  day  ?  " 

"  That  ?  Why,  that 's  a  jackass  named  Lion,  you  fool, 
and  you  're  just  such  another." 

"  Oh,  no,  'scuse  me,  mas'r,  I  ain't  got  no  new  uniform, 
I  ain't  no  lion  nor  noffin.    Mornin',  Mas'  Nat." 

And  Quasho,  bowing  like  a  dancing-master,  passed  on 
to  the  barn  of  the  old  house  where  Major  Nathaniel 
Goodwin  and  Molly,  his  wife,  now  reigned,  in  place  of 
the  first  Nathaniel  and  Lydia  LeBaron,  although  that 


HURRAH  FOR  DAWSON!*'  295 


majestic  widow  still  dominated  the  house  and  her  daugh- 
ter-in-law. Fuming  a  little  over  the  old  negro's  privi- 
leged humor,  the  major,  soon  to  be  a  general,  passed 
on  and  around  the  crest  of  Cole's  Hill  to  take  a  look  at 
the  shipping,  the  legitimate  occupation  for  certain  hours 
of  the  day  of  all  old  Plymouth  mariners,  then  and  now. 
But  at  the  foot  of  King  Street,  which  the  major  care- 
fully called  Middle  Street,  his  stately  progress  was  vio- 
lently interrupted  by  collision  with  a  body  not  so  heavy 
as  his  own,  but  infinitely  more  rapid  and  impetuous  in 
its  progress. 

"  Hullo,  Samson !  "  cried  the  soldier,  recovering  his 
equilibrium,  "  Don't  run  me  down  as  if  I  were  a  British 
cruiser,  man ! " 

"Ask  your  pardon,  Mr.  Goodwin  "  — 

"  Major  Goodwin,  if  you  please." 

"  Oh,  ay !  Men  grow  so  fast  these  days.  But  I 
want  to  make  out  those  sail  yonder  —  I  just  went  back 
to  the  house  for  my  spy-glass,  and  —  Aha,  aha !  " 

"  What  is  it.  Captain,  what  is  it  ?  Are  the  British 
upon  us  ?  "  And  the  major  rubbed  his  hands  together 
and  fairly  danced  with  excitement. 

"  Yes,  it 's  an  armed  brig  flying  the  British  colors,  and 
making  in  past  the  Gurnet.  Ha !  Barnes  and  Dyer 
have  both  caught  sight  of  her,  and  are  closing  in,  the  one 
from  Manomet,  and  t'other  from  Kingston.  There  '11  be 
a  fight,  and  here  am  I  stuck  ashore  like  an  old  woman ! 
Another  week,  and  the  Independence  will  be  afloat ! " 
And  the  captain,  smiting  his  thigh  with  his  fist,  indulged 
in  some  of  those  sounding  oaths  which  in  that  day  were 
the  sailor's  privilege. 

"  Here !  Let  me  look  while  you  blow  off  your 
steam,"  demanded  the  major,  seizing  the  glass,  while 


296   DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


from  the  house  hard  by  came  Deborah,  with  a  kerchief 
tied  round  her  comely  head,  and  the  light  of  battle  in 
her  eyes. 

Is  it  a  Britisher,  Sim  ? "  demanded  she,  with  a 
neighborly  nod  to  Goodwin. 

Yes,  —  and  I  ashore  !  "  growled  her  husband,  eye- 
ing his  spy-glass  in  the  major's  hands  with  impatient 
longing. 

There 's  Weston's  pinnace  down  at  Peck's  wharf. 
You  might  find  half  a  dozen  men  and  get  out  there ! 
Dyer  would  give  up  the  command  if  you  could  get 
aboard !  You  're  first  naval  commander  of  the  Colonies' 
forces,  and  have  the  right."  And  the  sailor's  wife  shot 
a  proud  glance  at  Major  Goodwin,  who  with  the  glass 
glued  to  his  eye  replied,  — 

"  You  're  right,  Mrs.  Samson,  your  husband  is  the  first 
naval  officer  commissioned  by  our  new  government,  and 
I  wish  with  all  my  heart  the  Independence  was  afloat 
and  in  commission  as  well.  I  '11  warrant,  Samson,  you 'd 
give  an  account  of  that  fellow  —  hark !  " 

The  sullen  roar  of  heavy  guns  and  the  eager  reply  of 
smaller  metal  nearer  at  hand  came  drifting  down  the 
bay,  and  the  hoarse  cry  of  hundreds  of  human  voices 
upon  the  hill,  upon  the  wharves,  lining  the  shore,  and 
racing  along  the  water's  edge  made  reply.  Samson  all 
but  snatched  his  glass  from  the  major's  hand,  leveled  it, 
and  presently  cried  out,  ^'  'T  is  Dawson  himself !  I 
know  his  signal !  He 's  reconnoitring  our  harbor.  Well 
shot,  Barnes !  —  down  comes  his  topsail,  and  there 's 
a  sugarplum  from  Dyer  that  makes  the  splinters  fly ! 
No,  Deb,  I  could  n't  get  there  —  there 's  no  wind,  and 
they  'U  do  for  him  —  let  them  have  the  credit  —  another 
day 't  will  be  my  turn.     Ha,  poor  old  Barnes,  that 's 


''HURRAH  FOR  DAWSON  1 


297 


into  you,  lad,  but  give  it  back,  give  it  back,  old  fellow  — 
there,  there,  that 's  the  chat ;  now  again  !  Oh,  if  I  was 
but  at  that  swivel  gun !  " 

And  now  the  windows  and  the  flat  roofs  were  crowded 
with  women  and  children,  and  flags  were  run  up,  and 
handkerchiefs  fluttered,  and  sweet  voices  grew  shrill  with 
outcry  all  of  one  note  as  it  seemed,  until  at  a  window  of 
whose  but  James  Warren's  house  appeared  a  stately 
and  handsome  girl,  dressed  in  all  the  elegance  of  cos- 
tume peculiar  to  the  day  among  wealthy  folk,  and  hold- 
ing a  Union  Jack,  which  she  defiantly  waved  above  her 
head,  shouting  "  Hurrah  for  Dawson  !  Down  with  the 
rebels  !    Hurrah !    Hurrah  for  Dawson !  " 

Already  a  mob  was  gathering,  and  the  angry  menaces 
of  those  whose  kinsmen  were  at  that  moment  fighting  to 
the  death  against  Dawson  and  his  sovereign,  began  to  rise 
to  yells  of  execration,  when  the  figure  of  the  bold  young 
Amazon  was  hastily,  perhaps  forcibly,  withdrawn  from 
the  window,  and  in  its  stead  appeared  the  gracious  face 
of  Mercy  Otis,  James  Warren's  gifted  wife,  as,  leaning 
out,  she  waved  a  half-finished  banner  of  her  own  con- 
struction, bearing  the  colony's  colors,  while  her  clear 
kind  voice  rose  distinct  above  the  tumult. 

"  Friends  and  neighbors !  I  pray  you  hold  my  guest 
excused  for  her  rudeness  and  her  folly !  Forgive  her 
for  James  Warren's  sake,  as  well  you  may  !  " 

A  silence,  a  hesitation,  and  then  a  voice  shouted, 
"  Hurrah  for  James  Warren !  "  and  another,  Hurrah 
for  Warren's  wife !  "  and  the  crowd,  after  all  a  crowd 
of  patriots,  though  untutored  ones,  took  up  the  cry,  gave 
three  good-humored  cheers,  and  streamed  away  down 
North  Street  to  Cole's  Hill,  to  find  that  Dawson  had 
concluded  to  follow  the  advice  of  Hudibras  to  "fight 


298  DK  Lebaron  and  his  daughters. 


and  run  away,"  that  he  might  "  live  to  fight  another  day," 
as  he  did,  to  the  sore  discomfiture  of  Simeon  Samson. 

But  although  the  patriots  of  Plymouth  could  forgive 
the  foolish  insult  of  James  Warren's  guest,  those  whose 
lives  were  risked  and  blood  was  shed  in  the  struggle 
were  not  so  placable,  and  the  captain  of  one  of  the 
little  privateers  coming  ashore  that  night,  wounded  just 
enough  to  make  him  very  irritable,  and  grievously  dis- 
appointed at  not  capturing  Dawson,  met  the  offender 
as  she  came  from  bidding  good-by  to  some  of  her  loyal- 
ist friends,  and  being  but  a  rough  companion  at  the 
best,  he  inflicted  personal  chastisement  upon  her  then 
and  there,  shouting  with  every  blow,  "  That 's  for  Daw- 
son !  and  that 's  for  Dawson,  and  that 's  for  Dawson !  " 

It  was  not  gentlemanly,  but  there  was  a  certain  Ho- 
meric justice  about  it,  not  altogether  displeasing  to  pos- 
terity. 

A  few  days  after  this,  the  vigilant  eyes  always  sweep- 
ing the  horizon  from  the  crest  of  Burying  Hill  descried 
a  fleet  of  sail  crowding  around  Elisha's  Point,  and  evi- 
dently making  into  the  harbor. 

"  There  !  '*  cried  the  royalists  in  great  triumph,  "  His 
Majesty's  fleet  is  coming  to  chastise  you  rebels.  Cap- 
tain Dawson  came  to  reconnoitre  and  no  doubt  is  pilot- 
ing this  squandron  in." 

"  In  that  case  we  will  make  ready  to  welcome  him 
and  his  friends,"  valiantly  replied  the  patriots ;  and 
forthwith  a  messenger  on  Isaac  Lothrop's  fast  horse 
was  dispatched  to  Monk's  Hill  in  Kingston  to  order  the 
beacon  lighted,  and  other  couriers  carried  the  tidings 
south  and  west,  so  that  before  two  hours  were  passed 
the  whole  country  side  was  roused  and  men  came  pour- 
ing into  town  armed  with  Queen  Anne  match-locks, 


''HURRAH  FOR  DAWSON!'' 


299 


with  blunderbusses  and  muskets,  with  "pieces"  ten 
feet  long  to  be  fired  from  a  rest,  with  every  conceivable 
weapon,  or  with  no  weapon  save  a  pair  of  ready  hands, 
and  a  fund  of  Yankee  adaptiveness.  Patriotic  house- 
wives threw  open  their  doors,  and  after  emptying  their 
larders  fell  to  work  cooking  of  their  best  to  supply  the 
feast  of  victory  ;  the  militia  and  minute -men  assembled 
in  their  guard-rooms  and  formed  upon  the  streets ; 
drums  beat,  bells  rang,  trial  shots  were  fired,  the  town 
was  under  arms,  while  over  all  the  northern  sky  rolled 
dense  drifts  of  smoke  and  flaming  clouds  from  the 
beacon  flaming  furiously  upon  Monk's  Hill. 

In  the  midst  of  this  confusion  the  watchers  espied  a 
little  cat-rigged  boat  shoot  out  from  the  mouth  of  Jones 
River  in  Kingston,  and  curtseying  gayly  to  the  strong 
east  wind  that  fain  would  have  beat  her  back,  come 
skimming  down  to  Plymouth.  From  the  masthead  flew 
a  pennant  at  sight  of  which  Deborah  Samson,  without 
removing  the  spy-glass  from  her  eye,  dryly  remarked  :  — 

"  Captain  Samson's  coming,  and  I  guess  there  '11  be 
less  capering  and  more  work." 

"  Wish 't  he 'd  bring  the  Independence  along  instead 
of  that  cat,"  remarked  Jacob  Cook,  standing  by. 

"  Independence !  Good  Lord,  there 's  nothing  but  In- 
dependents here  already,"  exclaimed  the  wife  of  the 
commander.  "  What  you  all  want  is  a  Regulator,  and 
he 's  on  the  wharf  already." 

"  Hark  !  What 's  that !  What 's  Captain  Samson  say- 
ing ? "  demanded  the  crowd,  racing  down  from  Cole's 
Hill  to  the  water  side,  and  then  scrambling  up  again 
with  the  news. 

"It's  Manly!  It's  Captain  Manly  with  a  lot  of 
British  prizes !  Hurrah  for  Manly  J  Three  cheers  for 


300  DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


Manly !  "  "  And  three  cheers  for  Captain  Samson,  who 
had  to  come  from  Kingston  to  tell  you  the  odds  be- 
tween B  and  the  bull's  foot,"  cried  Deborah  as  she 
closed  her  spy-glass  with  a  clang  and  turned  back  to 
her  house  to  see  that  the  captain  had  a  savory  supper 
ready  when  he  should  reach  home. 

A  few  Thomases  held  out,  waiting  for  ocular  evidence 
of  the  good  news,  but  with  the  mass  of  the  people  laugh- 
ter at  their  own  mistaken  fears,  and  joy  at  their  base- 
lessness, replaced  the  anxiety  and  strain  of  the  previous 
hours  ;  and  their  confidence  was  proved  reasonable  when, 
some  hours  later.  Captain  Manly  anchored  his  prizes 
and  himself,  very  nearly  upon  the  anchorage  ground 
where  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  earlier  the  Mayflower 
had  spent  that  terrible  winter,  and  departed  in  the 
spring,  carrying  back  neither  father  nor  mother  of  those 
hundreds  of  freemen  ready  now,  as  were  their  fathers 
then,  to  lay  down  their  lives  for  liberty  of  soul  and 
body. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 


A  WORM   IN  THE  ROSE-HEART. 

"  Madam  Winslow  to  see  me,  Marcy  !  "  softly  ex* 
claimed  Priscilla  Hammatt,  looking  up  from  the  livelj 
letter  she  was  writing  to  her  sister,  Elizabeth  Robbins, 
describing  the  late  events  in  Plymouth. 

"  Yes 'm,  all  in  her  best  satin  gownd,  with  mitts  on 
her  hands  !  "  insisted  Marcy,  round-eyed  and  voluble. 

"  Oh,  well,  I  will  come  down."  And  just  pausing  to 
pat  the  bunches  of  curls  at  either  temple,  and  see  that 
the  string  of  her  tucker  was  drawn  tight  enough  to 
hide  all  but  a  tempting  bit  of  her  white  neck,  and  that 
her  large-flowered  muslin  dress  did  not  look  crushed 
or  awry,  the  young  wife  tripped  down  the  stairs  and 
into  the  parlor  where,  amid  the  beau-pots  and  the  rose- 
jars,  and  the  china  monsters  and  marine  curiosities,  rel- 
ics of  the  voyages  of  Lucy  Howland*s  husband,  sat  a 
stately  dame,  whose  high-rolled  hair  needed  no  powder 
to  whiten  it,  and  whose  decided  Rowland  face  scorned 
to  disguise  the  signature  Time  had  relentlessly  set  upon 
it.  As  Priscilla,  blithe  and  bright  in  her  young  beauty, 
came  into  the  room,  the  elder  lady  arose,  and  taking  her 
by  the  hands  kissed  her  on  either  cheek,  saying,  — 

"  You  look  as  fresh  as  the  May,  my  dear.  AU  this 
gunpowder  and  dust  have  grimed  neither  your  skin  nor 
your  frock." 

"  I  hope  not,  madam,  although  I  am  proud  enough 


802    DK  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


that  my  husband  knows  the  smell  of  the  smoke  and  is 
not  too  dainty  to  risk  the  grime,"  replied  Priscilla  with 
spirit.  "  I  pray  you  have  this  chair  ;  it  is  a  thought 
more  comfortable  than  that." 

"  Nay,  child,  1 11  have  the  hardest  by  way  of  train- 
ing. Do  you  know  that  we  are  flitting  ?  Driven  out 
by  these  very  rebels  you  are  so  fond  of." 

"Yes,  madam,  my  husband's  cousin,  Mrs.  Pelham 
Winslow,  was  telling  us  but  yesterday,"  replied  Pris- 
cilla, somewhat  stiffly.  Madam  Winslow  laughed  dis- 
agreeably. 

"  Yes,  and  your  husband's  cousin,  Gideon  White, 
might  have  told  him  as  well.  We  Rowlands  have  mar- 
ried into  good  loyal  stock,  although  as  I  tell  my  nephew 
S'uth'ard  there 's  a  perverse  streak  somewhere  in  the 
blood  that  will  to  the  fore  now  and  again.  How  is 
Lucy  Rowland  ?  " 

"  My  mother-in-law  is  but  poorly  to-day,  or  she  would 
come  down  to  see  you,  madam." 

"  Lord,  child,  you  need  n't  be  so  stiff  with  me,  nor 
trouble  to  put  on  all  these  pretty  airs  of  mistress  of  the 
house.  Lucy  Rowland  was  my  brother  Consider's 
child,  and  so  my  niece,  years  enough  before  ever  you 
came  into  the  world  or  your  husband's  name  was  ever 
heard  in  Plymouth.  The  Rammatts  are  not  of  the 
old  stock  like  the  Rowlands  and  the  Winslows,  you 
know." 

"  And  how  soon  do  you  purpose  leaving  Plymouth, 
madam  ?  " 

"  It 's  not  civil  for  a  chit  like  you  to  ask  questions  of 
a  woman  of  my  years,  but  I  '11  take  care  and  send  you 
word  in  time  to  come  down  and  wave  your  handker- 
chief as  we  set  sail ;  or  no  —  mayhap  you 'd  send  your 


A  WORM  IN  THE  ROSE-HEART.  303 


doughty  captain  down  with  some  of  his  sharpshooters 
to  piek  us  off  and  capture  our  vessel." 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you  so  merry,  Madam  Winslow." 

"  Thank  you  for  nothing,  little  Mistress  Hammatt ; 
but  there,  child,  I  won't  tease  you  any  more,  tho'  it 's  as 
good  as  a  play  to  see  the  fire  flame  up  in  your  eyes 
and  the  roses  in  your  cheeks.  You  look  like  your 
mother,  Lyddy  Bradford;  ah,  she  was  a  sweet  crea- 
ture, and  I  was  sorry  enough  when  she  died.  You 've 
never  a  picture  of  her,  have  you,  Priscilla  ?  " 

No,  madam,  and  I  do  not  remember  her  at  all,"  said 
Priscilla,  softly,  all  the  fire  of  her  eyes  quenched  in 
tears.    "  I  have  only  this." 

And  from  a  sandalwood  box  of  treasures  laid  beside 
the  great  Bible  on  the  side  table,  she  brought  a  curious 
and  grewsome  ornament  intended  for  a  brooch  or  pen- 
dant, in  the  shape  of  a  golden  scroll,  upholding  a  crys- 
tal coffin,  in  which  lay  a  miniature  skeleton  of  fine  wire. 
Upon  the  black  enamel  face  of  the  scroll  ran  the  legend 

Lydia  LeBaron  Oh,  Oct.  28^  1756 
JEt.  87. 

"  Yes,  I  have  seen  it  before,"  said  Madam  Winslow, 
returning  it  with  a  sigh.  "  Poor  Lyddy  !  Well,  child,  I 
did  n't  come  here  to-day  to  talk  about  myself,  nor  your 
mother,  nor  even  you,  bi^t  about  my  little  cousin,  Han- 
nah Rowland." 

Hannah  ?    What  of  her,  madam  ?  " 

"  That 's  what  I 've  come  to  ask  you,  my  dear. 
What 's  the  matter  with  her  ?  " 

"  The  matter  ?  " 

"  Yes,  the  matter !    Dox^'t  sit  there  and  stare  and  go 


304  BR,  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


as  many  manner  of  colors  as  if  you  were  a  new-landed 
dolphin.  You  're  Hannah  Rowland's  most  intimate 
friend,  are  n't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  madam,  I  love  her  very  dearly." 

"  And  see  her  all  the  time,  especially  now  that  you 
live  next  door,  as  it  were,  to  S'uth'ard's." 
Yes,  I  see  her  very  often." 

"  Well,  then,  what 's  the  matter  to  make  her  peak  and 
pine  and  dwindle  as  she 's  doing  ?    Is  she  lovesick  ?  " 

"  Hannah  Howland  is  too  much  of  a  gentlewoman  to 
have  such  a  word  fit  her." 

"  Hoity-toity,  my  young  madam  !  Set  you  up  for  a 
little  bantam  partlet,  indeed  !  Abraham  Hammatt  will 
need  look  well  to  himself  or  he  11  be  bantam-hen- 
pecked !  " 

^'I  beg  your  pardon,  madam,  if  I  spoke  too  hotly, 
but"  — 

"  Oh,  I 'm  not  vexed,  mistress.  I  love  to  see  some 
spirit  in  you  young  things,  I  only  wish  my  niece  had 
more.  You  see,  Pris,  I 'm  fond  of  the  girl,  partly  be- 
cause her  father  was  my  favorite  brother,  and  partly 
because  she  favors  marvelously  a  picture  I  used  to  see 
o'  nights  in  my  looking-glass  —  don't  quite  see  it  now, 
do  you,  with  your  mocking  eyes !  " 

"  Oh,  madam,"  — 

"  Well,  '  oh,  madam,'  be  it,  only  mind  you  this,  Pris- 
cilla  LeBaron !  I  was  sixty-four  years  old  yesterday, 
and  the  morrow  of  your  sixty-fourth  birthday  I  '11  come 
at  night  and  look  over  your  shoulder  into  your  mirror, 
your  face  and  mine  side  by  side,  and  we  '11  see  who 's 
fairest." 

"  'T  will  be  forty  years  and  over,  madam,  before  I  am 
so  old.    I  think  you  will  forget." 


A  WORM  IN  THE  ROSE-HEART.  305 


"  Oh,  no ;  T  shall  be  dead,  you  know,  and  dead  folks 
Uon't  forget.  I  '11  be  sure  to  come  !  There,  there,  child, 
don't  turn  so  white  on 't,  perhaps  I  '11  have  done  you  a 
mischief,  and  I 'd  be  right  sorry  "  — 

"  No,  no  —  only  a  sudden  certainty  came  over  me 
that  I  never  should  see  sixty-four ;  don't  let  us  speak  of 
it,  please,  dear  madam  !    About  Hannah  ?  " 

"  Yes,  about  Hannah.  Well,  I  am  silly  fond  over 
the  girl,  and  she 's  in  a  poor  way,  as  any  one  may  see, 
her  father  and  mother  both  dead,  and  her  home  broken 
up,  though  S'uth'ard  and  Abiah  have  done  very  well  by 
her,  very  well,  considering  they 've  children  of  their 
own ;  but  still,  I 've  always  felt  that  Hannah  was  a  good 
deal  the  chany  vase  floating  along  with  the  earthen 
bean-pots, —  you  know  your  iEsop,  don't  you,  Pris  ?  And 
the  long  and  the  short  of  it  is  that  I  want  to  take  Han- 
nah with  me  up  to  the  Provinces  and  make  an  own 
child  of  her.  My  Penelope  and  Sarah  are  gone,  and  K 
am  getting  old  and  need  a  daughter,  especially  now  that 
we  're  driven  into  exile.  It 's  all  very  well  about  lib- 
erty and  that  sort  of  thing,  and  you  young  folks  feel 
that  wisdom  came  into  the  world  with  you  and  is  going 
out  with  you,  and  you  're  bound  to  make  a  general  stir- 
up  while  you  're  here,  but  as  for  me,  I  never  thought 
I  should  not  lay  my  bones  up  there  on  the  Hill  with 
father,  and  mother,  and  all  the  Howlands  from  old  Pil- 
grim John,  down.  'Sider 's  there,  and  Ruth,  and  their 
children,  but  poor  sister  Joan  and  I  have  got  to  turn 
our  backs  on  them  all  and  be  buried  by  the  Bluenoses  !  " 

She  was  crying  a  little  now,  and  Priscilla  took  up  the 
poor,  wrinkled  little  hand  with  its  jewels  and  its  mitt, 
and  kissed  it. 

"  There,  there,  never  mind,  Pris,  I  don't  want  to  bo 


306    DR,  LeBARON  and  BIS  DAUGHTERS. 


pitied,  it  was  n't  what  I  came  for,  but  I  want  you  to 
talk  to  Hannah  and  make  her  go  with  me.    She 's  told 
you  of  course  that  I  have  asked  her  ?  " 
"  Yes,  she  told  me." 

"  And  what  reason  did  she  give  for  saying  me  nay  ? 
Tell  me  now,  little  Pris  ! 

But  Priscilla,  coloring  scarlet,  only  shook  her  head. 
"  You  won't  tell  me  ?  " 

"  I  have  nothing  to  tell,  dear  madam,  but  I  will 
speak  again  to  Hannah,  and  see  if  she  is  fixed  in  her 
resolve." 

"  That 's  a  good  child !  And  come  down  the  hill  and 
let  me  know  to-night." 

"  I  will,  but  I 'm  afraid  it  will  only  be  another  nay." 

"  Well,  well,  I 'm  getting  old,  and  it 's  all  very 
hard,  very  hard,  and  sister  Joan  says  so  too;  but 
Gideon  White  and  Edward  Winslow  hold  their  heads 
too  high  up  in  the  air  to  hear  what  little  women  say." 

An  hour  later,  Priscilla  sat  in  the  pretty  bedroom, 
with  its  dormer  window  looking  down  the  Main  Street, 
which  Abiah  Howland  had  quietly  made  pretty  for  her 
husband's  sister,  and  where  the  latter  now  spent  most 
of  her  time.  The  two  girls  sat  close  together,  their 
hands  clasped,  and  talked  almost  in  whispers. 

"  Oh,  Hannah,  dear,  do  go  for  a  while,  at  least.  All 
this  will  pass  away,  and  you  '11  laugh  at  your  own 
fancies." 

"  No,  Pris,  it 's  no  use,  no  use.  I 'm  lying  under  sen- 
tence of  death,  and  I  may  as  well  await  it  here 
as  up  there  in  the  North.  And  when  I  die  I 'd  like  to 
lie  on  the  Hill  with  my  kinsfolk  —  mother  is  waiting  for 
me." 

"  Now,  Hannah,  you  're  just  silly,  and  what 's  worse, 


A  WORM  IN  THE  ROSE-HEART.  307 


you  're  wicked  to  talk  that  way.  It  all  comes  of  meeting 
that  Ansel  Ring,  the  day  you  sprained  your  ankle." 

"  He 's  never  failed  to  bring  me  Mayflowers  since." 
And  both  girls  glanced  at  a  dry  bunch  of  Epigaea,  hung 
upside  down  beside  the  little  mirror. 

"  I  wish  your  brother  Consider  would  come  home," 
exclaimed  Priscilla,  rather  sharply. 

"  Why,  dear  ?  " 

"  Because  I 'd  tell  him  all  about  it,  and  I  '11  warrant 
he 'd  soon  put  a  stop  to  all  these  fancies.  Mother  Crewe 
ought  to  be  shut  up  in  the  poorhouse,  and  Ansel  Ring 
thrown  overboard  in  deep  water." 

"  I  think,  Priscilla,  I  should  like  to  be  alone  and  rest 
for  a  while,  if  you  please." 

"  Oh,  yes,  get  vexed  with  your  best  friend,  —  I  would ! 
Nay,  child,  don't  look  so  white  !  Here,  kiss  your  Pris  ; 
remember  I 'm  a  married  woman  now,  and  have  a  right 
to  lecture  you." 

"  And  I 'm  just  a  peevish,  froward  child,  who  ought 
to  be  lectured.  But  oh,  Pris,  oh,  Pris,  I 'm  so  wretched, 
and  it 's  borne  in  upon  me  that  I 'm  not  of  the  elect,  and 
there 's  no  hope  for  me  here  or  hereafter,  and  I  don't 
dare  to  die,  for  fear  of  what 's  to  come,  nor  I  can't  bear 
to  live  and  be  tortured.  Yes,  night  and  day,  night  and 
day,  I  hear  that  horrible  old  woman  croaking  out,  ^  I 
curse  you,  I  curse  you  both,  as  I  cursed  his  father  and 
mother  ! '  And  poor  Ansel  fell  back  against  a  tree,  as 
white  as  death,  and  crying  out,  — 

"  '  Not  her  !  Not  her  !  Don't  curse  her  !  I  '11  bear  it 
all,'  and  then  I  can  hear  the  old  witch  laugh  as  she  said  . 

"  '  You  '11  have  enough,  my  fine  lad,  you  '11  have  enough 
of  your  own!  You're  the  last  of  their  children,  and 
the  dregs  of  the  cup  are  for  you,  —  but  she 's  too  near 


308  DR.  Lebaron  and  eis  daughters. 


to  you  not  to  get  her  share ; '  and  then  she  shook  her  stick 
at  us,  and  gabbled  over  her  curses,  and  I  —  I  suppose 
I  fainted." 

Fainted !  You  should  have  sent  Ansel  Ring  about 
his  business,  and  come  straight  home  to  complain  to  your 
brothers.  I  '11  warrant  they  would  soon  have  stopped 
her  cursing." 

"  No,  no,  indeed ! "  exclaimed  Hannah,  her  delicate 
color  paling  with  a  new  terror.  "  S'uth'ard  is  so  violent ; 
and  he 's  vexed  enough  already  with  mother  Crewe,  be- 
cause she 's  got  her  cabin  on  a  piece  of  his  land  up  there 
toward  Carver,  you  know  "  — 

Where  she's  always  lived.  Is  that  Southward's 
land?" 

Oh,  yes,  it 's  always  been  Rowland  property  since  old 
grandsir  John's  time,  and  S'uth'ard  loves  to  go  and 
stake  out  the  bounds  of  his  land,  and  says  it  ought  to  be 
entailed  on  his  little  John ;  and  mother  Crewe  always 
comes  out  and  snarls  at  him  when  he  drives  stakes  that 
include  her  cabin,  so  I  would  n't  for  the  world  add  fuel  to 
that  fire ;  and  Consider  has  gone  to  sea  —  did  you  know 
he  and  Ansel  are  in  the  same  ship  now  ?  " 

"No,  why  did  n't  you  tell  me?  " 

"  I  hate  to  talk  about  it,  and  it  is  only  a  few  weeks 
since  I  heard." 

"  Hannah,  tell  me  one  thing." 

"  If  I  can,  Pris." 

"  Do  you  really  love  Ansel  Ring,  and  want  to  marry 
him  ?  " 

"  No,  Pris,  I  don't  want  to  marry  him." 

"  Then  why  do  you  let  him  hang  round  you,  and  meet 
you  all  the  time,  and  stop  and  talk  with  him,  and  go 
where  you  know  he  '11  find  you  ?  " 


A  WORM  IN  THE  ROSE-HEART.  309 


*^  Oh,  Priscilla,  do  you  mean  that  I 've  been  less  than 
maidenly  ?  " 

"  Why,  no,  child,  it  hurts  me  to  have  you  speak  such 
a  word.  No  snow  was  ever  whiter,  and  no  lily  more 
delicate,  than  my  Nanny,  but  the  trouble  is,  dear,  that 
you  're  too  tender-hearted.  This  poor  fellow  loves  you 
to  distraction,  that 's  easy  enough  to  see,  but  he  remem- 
bers, as  he  should,  that  you  are  Miss  Howland,  daughter 
of  one  of  the  best  families  in  the  Old  Colony,  and  he 's  a 
poor  sailor,  with  a  bad  name  for  his  only  inheritance, 
and  he  dare  n't  come  forward  and  offer  you  his  love 
openly  ;  your  brothers  would  make  short  work  of  him  if 
he  did,  and  yet  he  can't  let  you  alone,  but  haunts  the 
woods  like  a  blue  jay  calling  to  his  mate,  and  you,  as 
tender-hearted  as  a  dove,  must  go  and  answer  him,  and 
answer  him,  until  now  mother  Crewe  has  stepped  in  to 
tie  you  together  with  an  old-time  curse.  And  there 's 
Joshua  Thomas  "  — 

"  Stop,  Pris,  I  won't  hear  any  more  !  "  And  Hannah 
started  to  her  feet,  the  color  and  light  of  health  flaming 
back  into  her  wan  face.  "  You  mean  well,  Pris,  but 
you  are  too  prosperous  and  happy  yourself  to  think  well 
of  what  you  are  saying.  No  more  now,  dear,  for  in- 
deed I  am  at  the  end  of  my  strength.  By  and  by  I  will 
come  in  to  see  you  and  sister  Lucy." 

" '  Sister  '  Lucy  I  She 's  more  like  your  mother,  with 
seven-and-twenty  years  between  you,  and  she  my 
mother-in-law!  But  what  am  I  to  say  to  your  aunt 
Winslow  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  forgot.  Tell  her  as  prettily  as  you  can  that  I 
won't  go.  Tell  her  that  I 'm  a  rebel  both  to  King 
George  and  her,  and  she  won't  want  me." 

"  There,  now,  thank  the  Lord  for  a  little  touch  of  mj 


310    DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


Nanny's  old  self  !  Well,  good-by,  my  pet,  come  in  soon 
and  have  some  supper  with  us  ;  I  '11  make  you  a  dish  of 
chocolate,  though  I  cannot  give  you  tea  until  the  patriots 
let  us  have  some.  Good  lack !  If  you  go  to  Halifax 
with  your  aunt  Winslow,  you  '11  be  able  to  drink  as 
much  tea  as  ever  you  want,  and  I  'U  lay  my  head  that 's 
what  she 's  going  for." 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 


WHAT  THE  POST-RIDER  BROUGHT. 

"  Home  for  your  dinner,  Captain  Hammatt  ?  " 

"Yes,  little  madam  Hammatt.  Is  it  ready,  and  is 
mere  a  kiss  or  two  to  season  it  ?  " 

"  Sweets  do  not  suit  with  meats,"  and  the  young  wife 
coquettishly  slid  from  the  over-confident  arm  about  to 
encircle  her. 

"  Well,  here 's  mamma,  she  always  has  a  kiss  for  her 
boy !  "  and  the  young  man  bent  to  the  soft  cheek  of  the 
mother  whom  he  loved  with  an  historic  tenderness. 
"  Come,  now,  I  '11  tell  you  both  some  news,"  continued 
he,  gayly ;  "  we  are  a  post-town,  and  are  to  have  an  office 
and  two  riders,  and  pay  postage  to  the  Continental  gov- 
ernment, and  become  a  very  important  place.  Mamma, 
you  can  write  to  my  brother  William  every  week,  if  you 
like,  and  Pris  will  do  nothing  but  scribble  sheets  of 
foolscap  to  Sally  Sever.  Oh,  it 's  marvelous  to  see  how 
the  world  grows,  is  n't  it,  Pris  ?  " 

"  Marvelous,"  replied  Pris,  dryly,  "  only  I  heard  the 
news  a  week  ago  in  a  secret  from  Eliza  Watson,  whose 
father  is  to  be  postmaster." 

"  William  Watson  postmaster  ?  "  inquired  Lucy  Ham- 
matt, "  well,  that 's  a  good  choice  ;  he  comes  of  the  old 
stock,  and  married  with  the  Marstons  of  Salem." 

"  No  doubt  it  was  for  his  pedigree  that  he  was  se- 


812    DR,  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


lected,  madam,"  replied  Abraham,  gravely,  for  in  spite 
of  his  Rowland  blood,  the  grandson  of  the  Cornish 
squire  had  never  quite  risen  up  to  the  dignity  of  May- 
flower descent." 

"  Well,  tell  us  all  about  it,  Abe,"  interposed  Priscilla, 
hastily,  and  he,  pausing  only  to  kiss  his  mother's  wrinkled 
pretty  hand,  replied,  — 

Oh,  you  want  coals  brought  to  Newcastle,  do  you  ? 
Very  well,  then,  let  me  inform  you  that  the  Provincial 
Congress,  now  sitting  at  Philadelphia,  has  established  a 
mail-route  from  Cambridge,  through  Plymouth  and 
Sandwich,  to  Falmouth.  It  will  be  run  once  every  week, 
and,  as  you  know,  William  Watson,  Esq.,  is  the  post- 
master, and  will  have  the  office  in  his  own  house,  so 
that  you  can  keep  an  eye  upon  it  without  any  trouble. 
Timothy  Goodwin  and  Joseph  Rowland  are  to  be  the 
post-riders,  and  the  charge  on  each  letter  will  be  six- 
and-eightpence,  so,  my  dear  Pris,  I  beg  you  not  to  write 
every  week  to  your  friend  Sally.  There,  my  dear,  have 
I  told  you  all  that  you  knew  before  ?  " 

"  All,  except  that  the  postmaster  may  send  letters  free 
for  himself  and  family,  and  Eliza  will  forward  all  my 
letters  marked  '  Paid '  and  cost  me  nothing,"  replied 
Priscilla  triumphantly,  but  her  husband  shook  his  head. 

"  Nay,  wife,  that 's  not  honest,  and  I  '11  not  have  it. 
Our  government  needs  money  to  carry  on  the  war,  and 
this  is  one  means  of  raising  it.  Let  the  Tories  cheat  if 
they  will,  for  deceit  is  the  refuge  of  the  weak,  but  I 
and  my  house  call  ourselves  patriots,  don't  we  ?  " 

"  But  six-and-eightpence  is  a  good  deal  of  money," 
murmured  Priscilla,  rebelliously,  while  the  mother  looked 
proudly  up  in  her  son's  face. 

A  good  deal  more  than  your  and  Sally's  letters  are 


WHAT  THE  POST-RIDER  BROUGHT,  313 


worth,  I  dare  say,"  retorted  he,  pulling  his  wife's  ear, 
**  80  you  will  have  to  send  them  by  private  hand  as  you 
always  have  done.  As  for  mamma,  I  know  that  Bill 
will  always  be  glad  to  pay  the  postage  on  a  letter  from 
her." 

"  I  have  good  sons,"  replied  madam  Hammatt,  quietly, 
and  the  captain  whispered  something  in  his  wife's  ear 
that  made  her  laugh  and  blush. 

Other  people  as  well  as  the  Haramatts  were  interested 
in  the  new  post-office,  and  when,  a  few  days  later, 
Joseph  Howland,  galloping  his  horse  into  town,  dis- 
mounted at  the  door  of  the  new  office  with  the  dignity 
and  importance  of  a  government  courier,  and  extracting 
a  small  package  of  mail-matter  from  his  saddle-bags 
handed  it  to  Mr.  Postmaster  Watson,  who  ceremoniously 
received  it  and  withdrew  to  the  recesses  of  the  private 
office,  an  admiring  crowd  of  townsmen  silently  assisted 
at  the  function,  while  not  only  the  Hammatt's,  but  the 
S'uth'ard  Rowland's,  the  Warren's,  the  Lothrop's,  the 
Hovey's,  in  fact,  every  window  commanding  the  scene 
of  action,  was  crowded  with  feminine  spectators. 

Simeon  Samson  was  among  the  crowd,  and  felt  an  un- 
expected sprig  added  to  his  budding  laurels  when  Mr. 
Watson,  appearing  at  the  little  window  of  his  office, 
benignantly  announced,  — 

"  A  letter  for  you.  Captain  Samson,  and  marked  pre- 
paid, but  as  it 's  in  a  woman's  hand  I  doubt  but  there 
was  some  hugger-muggery  with  the  postmaster's  wife  or 
daughter.    Here  'tis." 

"  It 's  well  she  paid  it  somehow,"  retorted  the  captain, 
holding  out  his  hand  for  the  odd-looking  missive,  "  since 
there 's  no  woman  out  of  Plymouth  whose  letter  would 
be  worth  six-and-eightpence  to  me." 


314  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


"  How  much  will  you  pay,  captain,  to  have  me  report 
that  dutiful  saying  to  your  wife?''  asked  Nathaniel 
Goodwin,  jovially. 

"  My  old  grandsir,  Myles  Standish,  said,  *  If  you  '11 
be  well  served,  serve  yourself,'  so  I  '11  go  do  my  own 
errand,  and  let  my  wife  open  the  letter  into  the  bar- 
gain ;  "  and  turning  down  Middle  Street,  or  as  they  still 
called  it  sometimes  King  Street,  Simeon  reached  the  old 
gray  house,  and  stepped,  as  you  may  do  to-day,  directly 
from  the  street  into  the  little  dusky  hall.  A  door  lay 
at  either  hand,  and  across  the  whole  back  of  the  house 
extended  a  charming  kitchen  such  as  notable  housewives 
like  Deborah  loved  to  beautify  and  decorate  with  substan- 
tial ornaments  like  strings  of  dried  apples,  and  onions, 
and  bunches  of  herbs,  and  patchwork  cushions  upon  the 
high-backed  settle  and  the  big  armchair  and  the  low 
window-seats.  No  labor-saving  device  such  as  painted 
floors,  or  oil-cloths,  or  even  hard-wood  boards  were  to 
be  seen  in  such  kitchens  as  these,  but  clean,  wide  boards 
of  soft  pine,  free  from  knot  or  twist,  were  scrubbed  to 
a  dazzling  whiteness,  and  then  covered  with  sand  as 
white,  carefully  marked  by  a  broom  into  various  ornamen- 
tal patterns  such  as  herring-bone,  waves,  shells,  or  even 
"  posy-beds,"  but  this  last  elaboration  only  where  thera 
were  no  children. 

In  such  a  kitchen  Simeon  Samson  now  found  his 
wife  busily  spinning  the  yarn  for  his  winter  stockings 
on  a  great  wheel  whose  sharp  whir  mingled  pleasantly 
with  her  contralto  voice  as  she  sang  a  ditty  of  her  day. 
Her  husband,  with  a  hand  upon  the  latch,  paused  to 
listen  with  a  smile  all  over  his  merry  face. 

"  O  maiden,  can  you  make  me  a  cambric  sliirt, 
Parsley  and  aage  grow  ripe  in  time, 


WHAT  THE  POST-RIDER  BROUGHT,  315 


Without  any  seam  or  needlework  ? 
And  you  shall  be  a  true  love  of  mine. 

**  Can  you  wash  it  then  in  yonder  well, 
Parsley  and  sage  grow  ripe  in  time, 
Where  never  sprung  water  nor  rain  ever  fell  ? 
And  you  shall  be  a  true  love  of  mine. 

"  Can  you  dry  it  well  on  yonder  thorn, 
Parsley  and  sage  grow  ripe  in  time. 
Which  died  before  ever  Adam  was  born  ? 
And  you  shall  be  a  true  love  of  mine.'* 

**  Now,  sir,  you  Ve  asked  me  questions  three, 
Parsley  and  sage  grow  ripe  in  time, 
I  hope  you  '11  answer  as  many  for  me, 
And  you  shall  be  a  true  love  of  mine. 

"  Can  you  find  me  an  acre  of  land, 
Parsley  and  sage  grow  ripe  in  time, 
Between  the  salt  water  and  the  sea  sand  ? 
And  you  shall  be  a  true  love  of  mine. 

"  Can  you  plough  it  with  a  ram's  horn, 
Parsley  and  sage  grow  ripe  in  time. 
And  sow  it  all  over  with  one  peppercorn  f 
And  you  shall  be  a  true  love  of  mine. 

**  Can  you  reap  it  with  a  sickle  of  leather, 
Parsley  and  sage  grow  ripe  in  time, 
And  bind  it  up  with  a  peacock's  feather  ? 
And  you  shall  be  a  true  love  of  mine. 

"  When  you  have  done  and  finished  your  work, 
Parsley  and  sage  grow  ripe  in  time. 
Then  come  to  me  for  your  cambric  shirt, 
And  you  shall  be  a  true  love  of  mine." 

"  Well  done,  dame  !  Where  did  you  get  that  ballad  ?  " 
demanded  Samson,  pulling  open  the  door  and  disclosing 


816  DR,  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


a  pretty  picture.  The  three  western  windows  of  the 
kitchen,  open  to  the  sweet  June  air  and  sunshine,  looked 
upon  a  garden  rich  in  all  the  hearty  hloom  of  early 
summer  and  gay  with  hees  and  butterflies,  although  the 
larger  space  was  devoted  to  such  useful  matters  as 
beets,  onions,  carrots,  and  pot-herbs  of  various  sorts, 
while  across  the  windows  were  trained  hop-vines,  whose 
fruit  would  be  brewed  into  beer,  diet-drink,  and  other 
compounds.  Meantime  the  leaves  made  merry  dan- 
cing shadows  on  the  sanded  floor,  and  gave  occupation 
to  the  tortoise-shell  kitten  who  tried  to  capture  them. 
The  spinning  wheel  was  drawn  into  the  middle  of  the 
great  room,  and  the  spinner,  pacing  up  and  down  as  she 
drew  her  thread,  fine  and  even  and  well  twisted  as  any 
spun  in  Plymouth,  displayed  to  advantage  her  nobly- 
moulded  figure  and  grand  freedom  of  motion,  while  the 
dark  face  turned  over  her  shoulder  toward  the  opening 
door  was  lighted  into  beauty  by  a  smile  showing  won- 
derfully white  and  even  teeth. 

"  Learned  it,  Sim  ?  Why,  I  always  knew  it,"  replied 
she.  "  Are  you  looking  for  your  supper  at  this  hour, 
sir  ?  " 

"  No.  I  have  brought  you  a  letter  out  of  the  first 
post-package  ever  come  into  Plymouth." 

Oh,  yes  ;  Mary  Foster  told  me  this  morning  over 
the  garden  fence  that  the  post-rider  was  expected  to-day. 
And  there 's  a  letter  for  me  ?  " 

"  No,  for  me  ;  but  lest  you  be  jealous  you  shall  have 
the  first  reading  of  it." 

"  I  jealous !  There  never  was  a  woman  since  Eve 
with  less  disposition  that  way." 

"  Well,  open  the  letter  and  tell  me  who  it 's  from,  or 
I  '11  take  it  back  and  look  for  myself." 


WHAT  THE  POST-RIDER  BROUGHT  317 


"  That  you  sha'n't !  "  exclaimed  Deborah,  evading  the 
playful  snatch  of  her  husband's  hand,  and  raising  the 
scissors  swinging  at  her  side  she  carefully  cut  around 
the  great  splotch  of  red  wafer  fastening  the  letter,  and 
seating  herself  in  the  splint-bottomed  chair  beside  her 
work-basket  slowly  opened  the  sheet  of  coarse  foolscap 
paper  and  turned  at  once  to  the  signature,  — 

"  Your  loving  cousin,  Deborah  Samson.'* 

"  And  who  is  this  loving  cousin,  if  you  please.  Captain 
Samson  ?    I  for  one  never  heard  of  her." 

"  Nor  I  —  and  yet,  yes,  I  remember  now  that  Dr. 
LeBaron  told  me  a  sad  tale  of  my  far-off  cousin  Jona- 
than's widow  and  children  left  destitute  at  his  death, 
and  there  was  in  especial  a  little  Deborah  '*  — 

"  How  old  a  little  Deborah  ?  " 

"  Some  five  or  six  years  old  at  that  time,  you  jealous* 
pate." 

Well,  well,  we  '11  read  the  letter." 
"  Yes,  that  seems  a  tolerable  way  of  getting  at  its 
meaning." 

And  the  captain,  throwing  his  leg  over  the  corner  of 
the  table,  teased  the  kitten  with  the  shadow  of  his  foot. 

'  My  dear  cousin,'  and  a  fair  enough  hand  she 
writes,  to  be  sure.  'Haply  you  never  have  heard  of 
me,  but  I  have  of  you,  and  now  I  hear  that  the  Con- 
gress has  made  you  a  captain  of  the  navy  and  set  you 
to  build  a  ship  wherein  to  fight  for  our  liberties.  I  am 
a  patriot  too,  though  I  be  but  a  girl,  and  only  the  last 
month  I  stood  on  the  high  hill  behind  our  house  and 
heard  the  sound  of  the  cannon  on  Bunker's  Hill  when 
our  brave  Warren  and  the  rest  drove  the  British  red- 
coats out  of  their  intrenchments.  I  could  not  tell  how 
the  day  was  going,  but  there  on  the  hillside  I  fell  on 


318    DE.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


my  knees  and  swore  to  God  that  if  He  would  give  my 
people  the  victory  I  would  serve  Him  all  the  rest  of  my 
life,  and  so  I  will.  Cousin,  I  write  to  you  to  offer  my- 
self as  a  sailor  on  board  your  new  ship,  the  Independent. 
I  am  a  tall,  strapping  lass,  five  foot  seven  and  a  half 
inches  high,  and  as  strong  as  a  man.  I  love  the  sea, 
for  you  know  that  my  forbears  were  sailors  all,  and  in 
his  extremity  my  father  was  glad  to  bury  himself  be- 
neath it.  I  will  put  on  men's  clothes  and  meet  you  at 
any  port  you  can  mention,  and  I  will  be  a  good,  obedi- 
ent, faithful  sailor,  never  telling  who  I  am  or  that  I  am 
kin  to  you,  nor  asking  more  than  a  nod  or  a  word  now 
and  again  just  to  let  me  know  some  one  cares  for  me. '  " 

So  far  Deborah  read,  and  letting  the  paper  fall  upon 
her  lap  raised  both  her  hands  in  horror. 

"  Put  on  man's  clothes  and  be  a  sailor  in  your  ship, 
and  you  to  give  her  a  kind  word  now  and  again  !  Sim- 
eon Samson,  do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  will  en- 
courage such  doings  as  those  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  think  it 's  a  pretty  good  idea  ?  "  demanded 
the  captain,  teasingly.    "  A  girl  of  spirit,  that,  and  "  — 

"  Take  your  letter  and  finish  it  yourself  —  it 's  not 
fit  for  a  decent  woman  to  read." 

"  Tut,  tut,  mistress  !  That 's  no  way  to  talk  of  a  poor 
little  kinswoman  who  knows  no  better  than  to  lay  such 
schemes.  It 's  you  that  should  know  better  than  to 
heed  them ;  no,  you  sha'n't  run  away  —  sit  you  right 
here  upon  my  knee  and  we  '11  read  the  rest  of  it  together. 
Come,  now,  Deb,  I  mean  it,  and  you  '11  have  to  give  in, 
as  well  soon  as  late." 

"  Let  me  read,  then,  for  you  '11  be  slurring  over  the 
worst  of  it." 

"  Read  if  you  like,  but  the  worst  on 't  so  far  is  your 
own  folly.    Bead  away." 


WHAT  THE  POST-^RIDER  BROUGHT.  319 


"  *  I  am  but  young  yet,  no  more  than  sixteen,  but 
strong  and  stout.  I  live  with  Deacon  Jeremiah  Thomas 
here  in  Middleborough  and  work  too  hard  by  spells, 
though  they  are  kind  enough  to  me.  I  feed  the  pig& 
and  poultry,  and  milk  two  cows,  and  spin  and  weave  and 
do  the  work  of  the  house,  and  last  winter  I  taught  the 
village  school  so  as  to  get  time  to  study  for  myself,  for 
they  hate  to  see  me  with  a  book  here  in  the  house,  and 
I  have  a  longing  desire  to  learn,  and  to  know  something 
more  than  pigs  and  poultry.  The  deacon  gets  a  news- 
paper now  and  again  from  the  minister,  and  when  he 
does  I  read  every  word  of  it,  and  I  listen  with  both  my 
ears  to  all  the  men's  talk  that  I  hear,  so  I  do  know  a 
good  deal,  for  all  I 'm  so  ignorant.'  " 

"  What  a  fool's  speech  that  is,  '  I  know  a  good  deal, 
though  I 'm  so  ignorant,' "  interrupted  Deborah,  spite- 
fully. 

"  I  understand  her,"  replied  Simeon,  briefly,  and  tak- 
ing the  letter  he  went  on :  — 

"  '  I  got  lots  of  time  in  the  school  for  myself,  for 
there  is  n't  much  to  teach.  We  have  the  New  England 
Primer,  and  there  are  a  few  spelling-books,  and  the 
New  Testament  to  read  in ;  and  two  or  three  of  the 
boys  learned  to  write,  and  had  paper  and  pen  and  ink, 
so  that 's  how  I  learned  myself  and  got  the  things  ;  and 
I  taught  the  girls  to  knit  and  sew  and  do  samplers ;  and 
there  was  n't  a  boy  in  the  school  I  could  n't  flog,  and  I 
did  it  too,  so  that  made  them  very  quiet  while  I  was 
studying ;  and  the  minister  lent  me  books.  I  like  to 
read  about  battles  and  sea-fights  and  heroes,  and  I  think 
you  must  be  a  hero,  cousin  Simeon,  and  I  want  to  go  in 
your  ship  and  fight  the  British  and  live  and  die  for  my 
country.    Please  write  and  answer  this ;  you  need  not 


320  DE.  LeBaron  and  eis  daughters. 


pay  any  postage,  for  Reuben  Thomas  is  courting  the 
postmaster's  daughter  in  Abington,  and  he  goes  over 
every  Sunday  night  to  set  up  with  her,  and  she  '11  send 
my  letters  for  nothing  ;  so  no  more  at  present  from 
'  Your  loving  cousin, 

"  *  Deborah  Samson/  " 

"  There,  now  !  what  do  you  say  to  that,  Captain  Sam- 
son ?  "  demanded  Deborah,  as  her  husband  released  her 
waist  and  folded  up  his  letter  with  a  provoking  sort  of 
smile  upon  his  face. 

"  I  say  that  Deborah  Samson  is  a  simple  sort  of  crea- 
ture :  one  of  her  name  talks  like  a  fool,  and  t'other  lis- 
tens to  her  like  a  fool." 

And  with  this  pithy  if  somewhat  rough  verdict  the 
captain  got  up,  filled  and  lighted  his  pipe,  and  went  to 
smoke  it  at  the  front  door,  while  Deborah  very  energet- 
ically began  to  prepare  supper. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 


A  PRIVATE  LOG. 

The  Independence  was  completed,  was  afloat,  and  in 
commission.  Captain  Samson,  glorious  in  a  new  uni- 
form and  a  maiden  sword,  tenderly  kissed  his  wife 
good-by,  and  with  the  kiss  committed  to  her  guardian- 
ship those  gentler  and  tenderer  traits  of  his  nature  for 
which  he  expected  to  have  small  occasion  in  the  life  of 
a  naval  commander. 

A  boat  manned  by  sailors  trained  in  the  British  navy, 
but  driven  by  cruelty  and  hardship  from  her  service,  soon 
set  their  new  commander  aboard  the  brigantine,  and 
as  he  reached  the  quarter  deck,  and  removing  his  cocked 
hat,  saluted  the  Continental  colors  waving  above  his 
head,  the  dense  crowd  of  Kingston  and  Plymouth  men 
thronging  Cole's  Hill,  the  wharves,  and  the  shipping  in 
both  harbors,  sent  up  a  mighty  shout  of  cheer  and 
promise,  while  from  window  and  housetop  fluttered  the 
kerchiefs  and  scarves  of  the  women,  and  from  the  flag- 
staff upon  the  captain's  own  house  flew  out  the  banner 
his  wife  Deborah's  fingers  had  spun,  and  dyed,  and 
woven,  and  sewed,  and  which  that  very  morning  she 
had  laid  in  her  husband's  hands  with  brave  words  whose 
strength  was  in  no  wise  lessened  by  the  tear  in  her  eye, 
or  the  tremor  in  her  voice. 

"It  shall  wave  at  the  peak,  Simeon,  for  your  return, 
or  it  shall  wave  half- mast  for  your  glorious  death." 


822    DR.  LeBARON  and  his  DAUGHTERS. 


It  was  then  that  he  kissed  her. 

But  now,  as  he  ordered  his  new  ordnance  to  fire  a 
triple  salute,  and  his  unworn  flag  to  thrice  dip  in  cour- 
teous response  to  that  thunderous  shout,  it  was  not  for 
Deborah  and  her  fluttering  kerchief,  not  even  for  her 
patriotic  banner  that  he  looked,  nor  of  them  he  thought. 
It  was  to  those  hundreds  of  brother  men,  every  one  of 
them  ready  as  he  to  die  for  their  common  country,  it 
was  to  Kingston  his  cradle,  and  Plymouth  the  home  of 
his  manhood  that  his  glistening  eyes  turned,  and  his 
cheek  grew  white  as,  clenching  the  hilt  of  his  sword,  he 
muttered  low :  — 

For  God  and  my  country  —  in  life  or  death  !  " 

Then  as  a  small  cold  wind  straight  from  Burying 
Hill  filled  the  new  sails  of  the  warship,  she  made  her 
stately  way  out  of  the  harbor  and  past  the  Gurnet,  where 
the  breeze  failed  her,  and  she  lay  becalmed  within  hail 
of  a  small  schooner,  belonging,  as  the  Plymouth  men 
knew,  to  Edward  Winslow,  who  had  been  in  it  to  New 
York  to  arrange  plans  for  his  removal  thither,  should 
the  rebel  cause  meet  with  the  unaccountable  success  that 
seemed  now  possible. 

"Our  first  prize.  Captain,"  remarked  Lieutenant 
Dyer,  confidentially,  as  the  British  ensign  rose  defiantly 
to  the  mast-head  of  the  schooner,  and  Edward  Winslow 
with  his  brother-in-law,  Gideon  White,  stood  on  the 
deck. 

"  Hail  her,  Lieutenant,'*  was  the  brief  response,  and 
Dyer  obeyed  with  alacrity. 
"  What  schooner  is  that  ?  " 

"  Schooner  Loyal,  of  His  Majesty's  town  of  Plymouth 
and  Colony  of  Massachusetts,  and  bound  to  that  port 
What  brigantine  is  that  ?  " 


A  PRIVATE  LOG. 


323 


"  Independence,  armed  privateer  of  the  Province  of 
Massachusetts  Bay." 

"  Do  not  know  any  such  power.  Is  it  at  war  with 
Great  Britain  ?  " 

"  It  wars  only  upon  its  open  enemies,  and  hopes  no 
Plymouth  men  are  to  be  found  among  them,"  replied 
Samson,  and  taking  off  his  hat,  he  bowed  courteously  in 
token  of  farewell.  Winslow  silently  returned  the  salute, 
but  Gideon  White,  who  could  not  yet  seriously  accept 
the  idea  of  Whig  authority  or  dignity,  seized  the  trum- 
pet from  Winslow's  hand  and  roared :  — 

"  If  you  see  my  son  Gideon  up  yonder,  give  him  my 
remembrance,  and  ask  him  to  bring  down  a  king's 
sloop,  to  clear  these  waters  of  picaroons." 

"  If  I  see  him,  I  '11  give  him  a  free  passage  home  in  a 
patriot  brigantine,  Mr.  White,"  retorted  Samson,  and 
so  the  vessels,  drifting  with  the  tide,  got  out  of  hail,  prob- 
ably to  their  mutual  satisfaction. 

About  six  weeks  later  the  Independence,  cruising  off 
Liverpool,  Nova  Scotia,  ran  across  a  fisherman  from 
whom  the  captain  gained  certain  interesting  particulars 
as  to  the  occupation  of  the  town,  resulting  in  a  very  suc- 
cessful midnight  surprise,  by  which  an  armed  boat's  crew 
of  the  Independence,  headed  by  the  captain  in  person, 
captured  or  destroyed  a  quantity  of  military  supplies 
waiting  at  Liverpool  for  transport  to  Halifax,  and  seized 
in  his  bed,  or  hardly  out  of  it,  a  young  gentleman,  to 
whom  the  captain  grimly  remarked  :  — 

"  Gideon,  you  are  my  prisoner  !  I  promised  your 
father,  not  six  weeks  ago,  that  I  would  bring  you  home, 
but  really  I  did  n't  look  for  so  quick  a  chance." 

"  Your  turn  to-day,  Samson,  mine  to-morrow,"  replied 
the  gallant  young  fellow,  quietly.  "  I  hope  I  may  put 
on  some  clothes." 


824    DK  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


"  Put  on  as  many  as  you  will,  and  show  these  men 
your  boxes  and  bags.  'T  would  be  a  pity  to  leave  your 
London  breeches  behind  you,"  replied  the  captain.  And 
so  it  came  to  pass  that  when,  after  sending  in  a  few 
prizes,  the  Independence  ran  into  Plymouth  to  report 
herself  and  procure  some  fresh  provision,  Gideon  junior 
was  handed  over  to  the  Committee  of  Safety,  who  im- 
prisoned him  for  a  while;  and  then  as  all  the  women, 
both  Whig  and  Tory,  made  a  pother  about  the  shame 
and  sin  of  keeping  the  handsomest  youth  of  the  Colony 
in  confinement,  or  "  in  a  dungeon,"  as  they  called  it, 
he  was  released  on  parole,  and  lived  at  his  father's 
home  on  Main  Street  (now  replaced  by  the  Engine 
House)  until  his  final  departure  for  Nova  Scotia,  where 
his  descendants  may  still  be  found,  and  still  are  con- 
temptuous of  Whig  authority  or  dignity. 

But  the  most  memorable  cruise  of  the  Independence, 
and  one  of  which  we  have  the  fullest  detail,  is  that  whose 
record  is  kept  by  Henry  Goodwin,  son  of  Doctor  Lazarus 
LeBaron's  daughter  Hannah,  who  married  Benjamin 
Goodwin,  brother  of  her  sister  Lydia's  husband,  Nathan- 
iel. 

It  lies  before  us,  the  little  tattered,  blurred,  fragmen- 
tary book,  actual  part  of  the  Independence,  telling  so 
much  and  withholding  so  much,  its  pages  vitalized  by  the 
hand  of  the  writer  as  it  passed  across  their  surfaces  and 
left  between  the  lines  a  record  impossible  to  transcribe, 
and  yet  containing  the  true  essence  of  the  story.  The 
words  themselves  are  crude,  artless,  and  unlearned, 
and  yet  so  much  more  eloquent  than  one  can  write 
at  this  distance  of  time  that  we  will  have  them  just 
as  they  stand,  and  bridge  for  ourselves  the  gaps  they 
leave. 


A  PRIVATE  LOG, 


325 


"  October  y*'  20*^  1778 

"  This  Day  being  fine  Weather,  at  10  o'clock  A.  m.  we 
took  our  Departure  from  Plimouth.  At  3  p.  m.  lost 
Sight  of  the  Gurnet.  At  5  o'clock  P.  M.  lost  sight  of 
Cape  Cod  and  this  hour  we  lose  sight  of  Land. 

"  Nothing  worth  Remark  happening  the  Six  Days  fol- 
lowing, &  no  Saile  appearing. 

"  The  next  Day  being  Sunday  y®  27*^  early  in  y®  Morn- 
ing we  Descry^d  a  Sail  under  our  Lee  and  gave  her 
Chase  and  come  up  with  her  very  fast.  At  1  p.  m.  we 
crouding  sail  and  shaking  the  Reefs  out  of  the  topsails 
we  Carry'd  away  our  f oretopmast  and  All  went  over  the 
Side,  the  Chase  discovering  that  Accident  threw  out  a 
Red  Ensign  and  firing  a  Gun  to  Leeward,  put  away  be- 
fore the  Wind  &  showing  herself  to  us  very  plain  we 
discover'd  her  to  be  a  Bark.  All  this  time  All  Hands 
employed  at  clearing  the  Rigging  &  getting  our  spare 
Topmast  on  End.  At  Night  we  lost  sight  of  her.  This 
night  some  of  our  Men  employed  in  getting  the  Top- 
mast and  Rigging  in  Order  fell  overboard  but  soon 
were  reskwed  and  the  next  Day  being  Monday  the  28*^ 
of  October  we  got  our  new  Topmast  on  End  nothing  Re- 
markable happening  and  no  Sail  appearing." 

A  week  of  fishing  and  shooting  wild  fowl,  killing  a 
sheep,  and  coasting  the  Banks  of  Newfoundland  ensues, 
and  then,  on  "  Monday  y®  4*^  of  November,  we  saw  sev- 
eral sail  &  spoke  with  a  Brigantine  which  belonged  to 
Aver  de  Grace,  she  being  French  Property  we  parted 
with  her.  There  being  several  Sail  in  Sight,  we  gave 
Chase  to  the  Nighest  &  in  a  short  time  come  Up  with 
Her,  She  being  a  Brigantine  from  Placentia  in  New- 
foundland bound  to  Waterford  in  Ireland  with  90  Pas- 
sengers aboard,  her  cargo  consisting  chiefly  in  Train  Oil 


326    DR,  LeBARON  and  his  DAUGHTERS. 


and  Blubber.  She  is  reckoned  to  be  worth  Twenty-Five 
Thousand  Dollars.  The  first  Day  She  come  out  of  Pla- 
centia  she  was  Intercepted  and  taken  by  the  Arm'd 
Schooner  Ranger  Commanded  by  John  Churchill  from 
Newbury,  who  put  his  Lieutenant  as  Prize  Master  and 
8  others  on  Board,  and  intended  to  keep  Company  with 
her,  but  Parting  in  a  Gale  of  Wind  the  Passengers  Rose 
took  her  and  alter'd  her  Course  for  Waterford,  the 
Original  Mate  taking  charge  of  her.*' 

And  just  here  one  must  lay  down  the  little  sea-worn, 
tattered  book  to  wonder  if  Henry  Goodwin  felt  all  the 
force  of  his  simple  narrative.  Ninety  wild  Irishmen 
held  prisoner  and  carried  whither  they  would  not,  by  a 
prize  crew  of  eight  Newbury  yeomen,  and  their  insurrec- 
tion in  the  midst  of  the  storm,  and  the  "  Original  Mate  " 
changing  place  with  the  defeated  prize  master  and  lay- 
ing her  course  joyfully  for  Waterford  again !  And  then 
the  Independence,  flying  that  new  and  untried  flag,  com- 
ing to  the  rescue  and  reversing  again  the  order  of  defeat 
and  success  ! 

Well,  perhaps  the  surgeon's  mate  knew  it  all  and  did 
not  say  it ;  perhaps  of  all  of  it  he  was  a  part,  and  yet 
saw  only  the  husk ;  at  any  rate,  he  makes  no  comment 
and  calmly  goes  on  :  — 

"  We  put  several  men  on  board  the  Prize  &  kept  Com- 
pany with  Her  the  Wind  blowing  Very  Hard  tliis  Night 
&  next  Day  nothing  Remarkable  could  be  transacted  ; 
the  6*^  inst  being  Calm  we  brought  all  the  former  Cap- 
tors on  board,  10  of  the  Passengers  and  Mate  which 
were  the  first  that  rose,  and  put  a  Prize  Master  and  18 
men  aboard  the  Prize.  This  Day  we  finished  the  Business, 
the  Prize  Master  having  Orders  to  keep  by  us  till  further 
Orders.     The  7*^  being  a  very  pleasant  Day,  toward 


A  PRIVATE  LOG. 


327 


Night  we  discry'd  a  sail  under  our  Lee  and  gave  Chase 
hoping  to  speak  with  Her  in  the  Morning  but  were  Dis- 
appointed no  Sail  appearing  in  the  Morning  except  our 
Prize  within  Hail. 

"  Nov,  9*^  We  lost  sight  of  our  Prize  she  having  rec'd 
Orders  to  proceed  for  the  first  Convenient  Port  in  the 
State  of  the  Massachusetts  Bay." 

Let  us  here  interpolate  that  the  "  Prize  "  duly  arrived 
at  Boston,  and  that  the  captain  and  crew  of  the  Inde- 
pendence duly  received  their  share  of  the  prize-money. 

Next  comes  a  bit  of  sea  fun. 

"  At  7  A.  M.  we  discovered  a  Sail  and  went  after  her, 
at  11  A.  M.  come  up  with  her.  She  proved  to  be  a 
French  Schooner  from  St.  Peters  bound  to  St.  Malos 
loaded  with  Fish.  We  hoysted  out  our  Yawl,  and  Lieut. 
Dyer  went  aboard  and  sent  the  Capt.  and  Owner  Aboard 
the  Independence,  the  Frenchmen  thinking  Us  to  be  one 
of  His  Majesty's  Arm'd  Vessels.  After  they  had  been 
on  Board  some  Time  we  hoysted  Continental  Colours 
which  Undeceived  Them.  They  appeared  to  be  very 
much  Rejoyc'd.  After  much  perswasion  they  Consented 
to  take  3  of  the  Prisoners  that  come  out  of  the  Brig^® 
Aboard." 

After  this  came  many  days  of  more  or  less  adventure, 
for  the  Independence  in  her  seven  months'  service  cap- 
tured and  sent  in  five  prizes,  one  of  them  the  Roebuck, 
Captain  White. 

But  the  bravest  ships,  the  bravest  men,  must  die. 
Fortune  of  war,  brave  hearts  of  oak,  and  a  noble  end 
that  comes  m  the  midst  of  noble  strife ! 

The  twenty-fifth  day  of  November,  only  a  month 
from  the  day  she  lost  sight  of  the  Gurnet,  the  Indepen- 
dence, while  chasing  a  British  sloop  which  was  to  have 


328    DR,  LhBARON  AND  HIS  DAUGHTERS, 


been  her  sixth  prize,  came  upon  "  two  Saile  about  5 
points  on  our  Lee  Bow.  We  then  left  the  Sloop  and 
Bore  Away,  crouding  all  the  Sail  we  Possibly  cou'd. 
We  raised  them  fast,  and  soon  Discovered  them  Plain 
from  the  Deck,  and  found  them  to  be  a  Ship  and  a 
Brigantine.  Then  says  our  Noble  Captain,  '  I  believe 
the  Ship  to  be  a  Transport  &  what  the  Brig"®  is  I  can't 
discover,  but  prepare  yourselves  for  an  Ingagement,  and 
we  '11  see  what  they  are  made  of.' 

"  We  made  ready  &  soon  see  they  were  also  for  In- 
gaging,  haul'd  up  their  Courses  and  Lay  too  for  us  to 
come  up.  We  first  come  up  with  the  Brig"®  within 
Pistol  shot,  we  hoysted  Continental  Colours  they  Im- 
mediately hoysted  St.  George's  Jack  and  give  us  a  Gun, 
for  which  we  gave  her  a  broadside.  After  that  it  was 
broadside  for  broadside  for  two  glasses  "  (hour-glasses) 
upon  which  the  Ship  seeing  we  were  like  to  be  more 
than  a  match  for  the  Brigantine  come  up  upon  our 
Quarter  with  16  Six  Pounders  and  a  hundred  and  forty 
soldiers." 

Then  followed  an  incident  which  the  discreet  surgeon 
does  not  mention,  fearing  perhaps  to  bring  his  "  Noble 
Captain  "  into  trouble,  but  which  the  newspapers  of  the 
day  related  with  stern  approval. 

When  the  heavily  armed  and  manned  transport 
Nancy  came  up  to  reenforce  the  Hope,  commanded  by 
that  gallant  George  Dawson  whose  many  successes  had 
made  him  a  little  too  skeptical  of  Yankee  skill  and  valor, 
some  of  the  men  of  the  Independence,  overborne  by  that 
terrific  two  hours'  combat,  shrunk  from  encountering  a 
fresh  foe  and  murmured  at  their  guns. 

Samson,  who,  covered  with  smoke  of  gunpowder  and 
blood  of  half-staunched  wounds,  was  everywhere,  heart- 


A  PRIVATE  LOG. 


329 


ening,  helping,  cheering  on  his  men,  heard  and  saw  the 
dismay,  and  with  a  bound  stood  beside  the  mutineers. 

"  What 's  that,  you  coward  !  Strike  the  flag !  Hark 
y',  my  fine  fellow,  death  from  the  enemy  is  possible, 
but  death  from  my  own  hand  is  certain,  unless  you  turn 
to  with  a  will.  Train  that  gun  f or'ad  !  You  heard  the 
order ! " 

Beneath  the  captain's  eye  and  the  muzzle  of  the  cap- 
tain's pistol  the  mutineers  succumbed  and  began  to  obey 
the  order,  when  the  Nancy,  bringing  up  on  the  starboard 
quarter,  poured  in  a  broadside,  whose  shot  actually 
crossed  the  course  of  those  still  spasmodically  fired  by 
the  Hope. 

"  It 's  all  over  now  —  run  for  your  lives !  "  shouted  a 
coward  holding  commission  as  third  lieutenant  of  the 
Independence,  and  bounded  toward  the  companion  way, 
where  he  was  met  by  his  captain,  who,  having  fired  his 
pistol  at  an  Englishman,  tore  his  sword  from  its  scab- 
bard and  received  the  flying  traitor  upon  its  point. 
With  a  shriek  the  poor  wretch  threw  up  his  arms  and 
fell  dead,  and  a  sailor  who  followed  him  met  the  same 
fate. 

"  Seize  him  !  Give  him  up  and  haul  down  the  flag ! 
yelled  another  mutineer,  and  again  the  sword  flashed 
and  fell,  and  the  livid  face  and  blazing  eyes  of  the  com- 
mander turned  upon  the  wavering  knot  of  those  who 
followed. 

"  As  sure  as  God 's  in  heaven  I  '11  lay  you  all  beside 
'em  unless  you  turn  to,"  shouted  he,  flourishing  that 
dripping  sword  above  his  head  ;  and,  more  afraid  of  him 
than  of  the  British,  the  men  raised  a  fickle  shout  of 
loyalty  and  turned  to  their  work.  Dawson,  mounted  on 
the  taffrail  of  the  Hope,  saw  it  all,  and  the  pistol  cover- 
ing Samson's  head  dropped  at  his  enemy's  side. 


330    DR.  LeBARON  and  his  DAUGHTERS. 


"  What  a  hero  lost  to  the  British  navy !  "  exclaimed 
he  to  his  first  lieutenant. 

You  might  bring  him  over  in  pieces,  but  never  alive," 
replied  that  officer. 

And  so  for  another  hour  the  battle  raged,  the  Hope  on 
the  one  side  and  the  Nancy  on  the  other  pouring  in 
broadside  after  broadside,  until  as  the  latter  came  creep- 
ing up  to  board,  Samson,  looldng  around  upon  his  hag- 
gard and  exhausted  men,  and  hearing  the  guimers  re- 
port that  certain  guns  were  too  hot  to  fire  and  the 
ammunition  of  others  was  running  low,  set  his  teeth 
in  the  mightiest  struggle  of  all  that  day,  and  gave  the 
order  to  make  sail  and  bear  away. 

"  Up  with  your  helm,  steersman,"  repeated  he,  im- 
patient that  the  order  seemed  of  no  avail,  and  turning 
to  the  wheel  he  found  the  man,  a  blithe  young  Plym- 
outh fellow,  hanging  across  it  dead.  Another  took  his 
place,  and  the  spokes  turned,  but  with  no  result ;  the 
masts,  sails,  and  rigging  were  so  riddled  with  shot  that 
it  was  impossible  to  make  sail,  and  like  a  wounded  bird 
the  Independence  could  only  feebly  flutter  her  wings, 
but  fly  no  more. 

"  We  can't  get  way  upon  the  brigantine.  Captain,  with- 
out new  rigging,"  reported  the  sailing  master,  quietly, 
and  the  first  lieutenant,  clinging  to  the  breech  of  a  gun 
because  he  could  not  stand  on  a  broken  leg,  gasped :  — 

"  For  God's  sake.  Captain,  don't  throw  away  these 
men's  lives !  The  boarders  will  be  upon  us  in  a  mo- 
ment, and  there 's  nobody  left  to  repel  them." 

And  from  the  captain's  breast  burst  such  a  groan  that 
they  who  heard  it  told  it  with  awe  to  their  children  and 
their  children's  children. 

Must  we  strike  our  flag,  Dyer  ?  " 


A  PRIVATE  LOG. 


331 


"For  the  sake  of  these  men,  Captain." 

"  Why  did  n't  they  shoot  me  first !  " 

"  Quick,  Captain !  "  And  as  the  Nancy  ranged  up  on 
the  weather  quarter,  with  the  evident  intention  of  lock- 
ing her  yard-arms  with  those  of  the  Independence,  and 
so  pouring  in  her  troops,  the  lieutenant  fell  swooning 
from  the  gun,  and  Samson,  white  as  death,  could  only 
signal  with  his  bloody  sword  to  the  men  at  the  signal 
halliards. 

Down  came  the  Continental  colors,  and  the  Nancy, 
with  three  men  at  the  wheel,  glided  harmlessly  past  the 
side  of  the  Independence,  while  a  shout  of  triumph 
went  up  from  the  decks  of  the  ship,  but  was  immedi- 
ately repressed  by  orders  from  Dawson  himself. 

A  few  moments  later  the  two  heroes  stood  face  to 
face  and  curiously  eyed  each  other. 

"  Captain  Samson,  I  am  proud  to  be  your  host," 
said  the  English  officer,  extending  his  hand.  *^  I  never 
saw  a  ship  better  worked,  or  an  engagement  more 
bravely  fought." 

"  And  yet,  sir,  my  sword  is  yours,"  replied  Samson, 
bitterly,  as  he  unbuckled  and  presented  it. 

"  No,  Captain,  no,"  returned  Dawson ;  ^'  a  man  who  can 
use  a  sword  as  you  have  should  never  be  without  one." 

"Thank  you,  Captain  Dawson.  If  I  must  be  con- 
quered I  had  rather  yield  to  you  than  any  man  alive." 

Would  you  like  to  see  that  sword  ?  It  lies  in  Pilgrim 
Hall  in  old  Plymouth,  with  its  ancestor,  the  sword  of 
Myles  Standish. 

So  ended  what  has  been  called  "  an  engagement  of  as 
severe  and  bloody  a  character  as  is  recorded  in  the  an- 
nals of  naval  warfare.  Had  Captain  Samson  been  sus- 
tained by  all  his  men,  he  would  undoubtedly  have  been 


332    DK  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


the  conqueror  rather  than  the  vanquished,  and  his  skill 

and  intrepidity  were  applauded  even  by  his  enemies." 

Let  us  hope  that  applause  and  the  company  of  his 
sword  were  a  solace  to  the  vanquished  hero  during  his 
seven  months'  imprisonment  at  Fort  Cumberland,  Hali- 
fax, Nova  Scotia.  That  he  diverted  himself  during  a 
part  of  the  time  is  proven  by  an  elaborately  carved 
clock-case  which  he  wrought  and  brought  home  as  a 
present  to  his  wife.  Probably  there  was  no  Th^rfese  at 
Fort  Cumberland,  or  perhaps  sixteen  years  of  active 
service  had  told  upon  the  captain's  face  ;  at  any  rate,  he 
remained  a  prisoner  until  the  beginning  of  July,  1777, 
when  he  was  exchanged,  and  returned  home  to  take 
command  of  the  States'  armed  brig.  Hazard.  But  let 
us  know  a  little  more  of  the  fate  of  the  Independence 
and  her  crew. 

"  We  soon  found  that  the  Nancy  was  bound  to  Fort 
Cumberland,  Nova  Scotia,  where  we  were  all  carried 
Except  those  Kill'd  in  the  Ingagement  two  of  which 
was  Seth  Doten  and  Benj^  Sparrow.  This  woful  Night 
our  people  were  All  Dispers'd,  some  on  board  the  ship, 
and  some  on  board  the  Brigantine  but  all  were  carried 
from  the  Independence  except  Dr.  Cutting  myself,  the 
wounded  and  a  few  men  to  attend  us.  Two  of  our 
wounded  died  of  their  wounds  at  Fort  Cumberland  at 
which  place  we  were  all  order'd  on  board  the  Frigate 
Lizard  to  go  to  Annapolis  and  from  there  to  Hallifax 
but  when  she  saw  the  Distres't  Condition  two  of  our 
wounded  were  in,  (the  rest  by  this  time  were  in  a  very 
good  way)  she  Refus'd  taking  them  on  Board,  so  they 
stay'd  behind." 

Here  a  few  pages  of  the  time-worn  manuscript  are 
lost,  but  it  is  evident  that,  leaving  Samson  and  the  dying 


A  PRIVATE  LOG. 


333 


men  at  Fort  Cumberland,  the  surgeon's  assistant,  some 
of  tlie  prisoners,  and  a  prize  crew,  with  the  Indepen- 
dence, were  carried  to  Annapolis,  and  thence  set  sail  for 
Halifax  in  their  own  vessel,  but  under  escort  of  a  British 
brigantine. 

Dr.  Goodwin  goes  on  :  — 

"As  we  came  out  of  Annapolis  the  Wind  began  to 
Increase  and  about  sunset  we  were  obliged  to  shorten 
sail,  and  about  sunset  the  wind  at  N.  increased  to  such 
a  digree  that  the  Brigan^®  in  Company  with  us  hove 
to,  and  disired  us  to  Do  the  Same.  But  our  Prize 
Master  not  being  Acquainted  with  our  Brigantine  feared 
she  would  founder  and  for  that  Reason  kept  her  Before 
the  Wind.  It  Blew  Exceeding  hard.  The  Next  Morn- 
ing we  were  all  again  surpriz'd  at  the  Cry  of  Fire  we 
found  our  Hold  filled  with  Smoke  and  upon  Examina- 
tion found  a  Hole  in  our  Galley  Hearth  where  the  Fyre 
had  got  through  into  some  wood.  The  decks  were  then 
filled  with  Ice  under  which  we  were  all  of  a  Blaze ! 
Good  God  what  a  Situation  we  were  in  !  Yesterday 
morning  we  Expected  every  moment  to  Perish  in  the 
Water  this  morning  we  Expected  to  Perish  in  the 
Fire.  The  wind  continuing  the  same  way  for  two  days 
with  Equel  Velocity  our  Prize  Master  on  the  3^  day 
which  was  more  Moderate  Concluded  to  make  Sail  & 
put  away  for  the  West  Indies  ;  all  were  agreed  to  it 
except  ten  prisoners  who  were  taken  in  a  small  schooner 
belonging  to  Plymouth,  Commanded  by  Captain  Hatch. 
They  were  all  Plymouth  men,  and  fearing  they  should 
be  in  the  Enemy's  Hands  longer  than  if  they  went  to 
Hallifax,  (now  we  took  them  at  Annapolis  to  carry 
there,  for  a  Cartel  was  then  waiting  at  Hallifax  for  them 
and  us)  they  Petittion'd  to  make  trial  to  Beat  on  again 


834  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


but  they  were  not  heard.  Accordingly  without  any 
farther  Ceremony  we  made  the  Best  of  our  way  toward 
Antigua ;  we  being  very  short  of  water  were  put  upon 
Allowance  of  3  Pints  per  Day  upon  which  we  Made 
Out  very  well.  Nothing  remarkable  Happened  until  we 
came  up  with  Bermoodas  when  we  saw  a  Sloop  to  the 
windward  about  8  o'clock  A.  M.  the  Prisoners  were 
then  wrapt  in  Silent  Expectation  of  her  being  an  Ameri- 
can Privateer.  Our  Prize  Master  bore  away,  made  all 
the  Sail  he  possibly  could  but  she  came  up  with  us 
very  fast  and  almost  within  cannon-shot  but  as  we  Sup- 
poz'd  she  then  saw  we  were  built  war  like  &  fear'd  to 
Ingage  so  our  Expectations  of  being  re-taken  were 
Sadly  Cut  off.  After  this  we  saw  but  2  or  3  Sail  until 
the  23  of  January.  We  were  then  in  the  Lat.  of  about 
22  or  3  and  about  10  o'clock  A.  m.  we  saw  a  large 
Ship  to  the  Windward  and  a  Schooner  to  the  Leeward, 
We  soon  saw  the  Ship  bareing  down  upon  us,  and  the 
Schooner  standing  the  same  way  we  were  by  the  Wind 
we  were  all  Inclin'd  to  think  that  the  Ship  was  an  Eng- 
lish Man  of  War  and  the  Schooner  her  Tender.  They 
Both  seem'd  Eager  to  speak  with  Us  but  our  Prize 
Master  declin'd  having  anything  to  say  to  Either  of 
them  if  he  Could  Avoid  it.  However  as  the  Fates  or- 
dered it  the  wind  almost  Died  away  about  4  or  5  o'  clock 
p.  M.  By  this  Time  the  Ship  had  got  within  about  3 
Leagues  we  fearing  to  run  from  her  lest  the  Schooner 
should  Catch  us  stood  upon  our  Course  but  we  all  kept 
our  Eyes  steadily  Fix'd  on  the  ship  watching  her 
Motions  and  soon  saw  a  very  fine-looking  Barge  come 
from  her  toward  us.  We  then  hove  too  and  waited  for 
her  to  come  up.  She  came  within  Hale  of  us  and  we 
discover'd  the  Gold  Laced  Hats  of  the  Officers  their 


A  PRIVATE  LOG, 


335 


Swords  &c  and  the  Peoples  Dutch  caps.  We  haled 
them  &  they  immediately  answering  ask'd  who  we  were. 
Our  Master  Told  them  &  ask'd  what  ship^s  Boat  that 
was ;  they  say'd  it  was  the  Simater's,  Man-of-War  from 
Antigua  and  ordered  to  make  Toward  the  ship  as  fast  as 
Possible.  We  accordingly  did  for  the  wind  sprang  in 
our  favour  so  that  we  came  along-side  of  her  just  after 
Dark.  She  then  discovered  herself  to  us  &  proved  to 
Be  the  Boston,  privateer  Mounting  25  carriage  guns, 
besides  Swivels,  Cohorns,  etc.  They  gave  orders  to 
strike  our  (British)  colours  and  heave  to  which  we  ac- 
cordingly did.  They  then  Sent  for  our  Master  and  his 
own  people  to  come  on  board  the  Ship  and  sent  us  an- 
other Master  and  ships  Company  on  board  that  night. 
The  next  day  Capt.  Brown  the  Commander  of  the  Ship 
seeing  we  Sail'd  exceeding  fast  and  Look'd  very  warlike 
all  excepting  the  want  of  guns  (now  our  guns  were  all 
Left  at  Fort  Cumberland  so  that  we  were  in  a  Defence- 
less Situation)  the  Captain  Concluded  to  put  some  Guns 
on  board  and  Everything  Necessary  to  fit  us  for  a  Pri- 
vateer and  keep  us  for  his  Tender.  He  accordingly  did, 
&  appointed  Mr.  Jeremy  Hagerty  our  Commander.  I 
was  then  desir'd  to  Act  as  Surgeon  of  her  a  Circum- 
stance which  was  of  Advantage  to  our  two  wounded 
Men  which  were  in  a  fine  way  &  almost  well  but  that 
my  Medicines  were  Exhausted  and  a  fresh  supply  was 
Necessary  which  I  now  had  from  the  Ship. 

"  We  gave  Chase  after  this  to  several  Sail  but  they  all 
proved  French,  Spanish,  or  American  friends  until 
About  the  6*^  of  August  we  came  acrost  a  Brigantine 
from  London.  We  readily  agreed  to  send  her  in  and 
Mr.  Hagerty  our  Master  was  Ordered  to  take  Charge 
of  her  and  Mr.  Stoughton  Lieutenant  of  the  Ship  took 
the  command  of  the  Independence." 


336    DR,  LeBARon  and  his  daughters. 


And  so  we  leave  the  regained  Independence  with  its 
merry  surgeon,  only  wishing  he  had  continued  his  jour- 
nal until  his  return  home,  which  we  know  took  place, 
for  three  years  later  he  was  married.^ 
^  See  note  in  Appendix. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 


PARSON  HOVBY.  —  T.  FOR  't  IS,  AND  T.  FOR  'T  IS  N'T. 

But  let  us  go  back  in  our  story  a  little,  to  a  sweet 
June  morning  before  the  Independence  had  taken  such 
positive  shape. 

The  roses  were  in  bloom  in  the  doctor's  garden  stretch- 
ing all  along  LeBaron's  Alley  to  Middle  Street,  as  folk 
now  carefully  called  it,  and  in  their  midst  stood  two 
young  women,  as  fair  and  sweet  as  they,  although  the 
one  was  in  gracious  fullness  and  richness  of  matronhood, 
and  the  other  the  half-developed  blossom,  coyly  hiding 
its  glowing  heart  and  threatening  to  refold  the  calyx 
leaves  around  its  promise. 

"  Come  now,  Margaret,  tell  me  in  so  many  words,  and 
waste  no  more  of  either  your  or  my  time.  Have  you 
quarreled  with  Philip  de  Montarnaud,  or  is  it  only  cat- 
and-mouse  play  ? 

"  Oh,  pray  don't  waste  your  time,  Mrs.  Priscilla,  over 
such  idle  concerns  as  mine ;  see,  here  you  are !  "  And 
cleverly  capturing  a  lady-bug  creeping  over  a  rose-leaf, 
Margot  held  him  upon  the  tip  of  a  tapering  forefinger 
and  mockingly  sang  :  — 

*  Lady-bug,  lady-bug,  fly  away  home, 
Your  house  is  on  fire  and  your  children  will  bum  I '  " 

And  giving  her  finger  a  flick,  the  insect  spread  her 
wings  and  flew  away,  as  it  chanced  in  a  northerly  direc- 
tion. 


838  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


"  See,  Pris,  she 's  showing  you  the  way  !  " 

"  Peggy,  you  're  enough  to  provoke  a  saint,  but  I  am 
your  older  sister  — 

"  Oh,  so  much  older  !    Three  whole  years,  is  n't  it?  " 

"  Do  be  good,  little  sister,  and  let  me  help  you  !  " 

"  Oh,  Pris,  I 'm  naughty,  and  I  love  to  be  naughty, 
and  nobody  can  help  me,  and  —  and  —  I  wish  —  I 
wish"  — 

But  the  wish  was  lost  in  the  great  bunch  of  white 
roses  the  girl  suddenly  crushed  up  against  her  face. 

"  Child  !    But  did  you  let  him  go  away  in  anger  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  why  need  he  tell  me  about  that  Mademoiselle 
de  Rochambeau,  and  hope  she  could  come  over  here  with 
her  brother  the  count  ?  And  oh,  she  was  so  elegant,  and 
80  accomplished,  and  so  gentile,  and  so  mistress  of  her- 
self, and  had  so  fine  a  manner,  and  never  was  rude,  and 
—  and  —  I  know  not  what  all ;  but  I  do  know  that  I 
told  Monsieur  Philip  to  get  back  to  her  and  her  brother, 
or  to  France,  or  to  Havre  de  Grace,  or  anywhere  else  he 
liked,  as  fast  as  he  could,  and  never  come  troubling  me 
again,  for  there  was  a  better  man  than  he  "  — 

"  A  better  man !  Why,  whom  did  you  mean.  Mar- 
got?" 

Why  —  Tom  Crandon,  or  Tom  Davis,  or  Tom  Wat- 
son, and  when  I 've  done  with  the  Toms  I  '11  take  the 
Dicks,  and  then  the  Harrys  ;  there 's  enough  to  be  had 
of  all  three." 

"  Now,  see  here,  Peggy,"  — 

"  You  know  that  I  hate  to  be  called  Peggy." 

"  Well  Margaret,  then,"  — 

"No,  Margot.    Don't  you  love  your  little  Margot, 
Prissy  dear  ?  " 
«  Oh,  Margot,"  — 


PARSON  HOVE  Y, 


339 


"  Mas'r  send  his  comperments,  and  like  to  speak  to 
Mis'  Pris  w'en  she  done  conversas'ing  wid  Miss  Mar- 
get. 

"  Oh  !  "  And  Priscilla,  a  little  startled,  turned  and 
confronted  Quasho,  very  bent,  very  white,  very  lame,  in 
these  days,  and  with  a  certain  air  of  feeble  expectancy 
always  hanging  about  him,  —  the  air  that  characterizes 
some  purblind,  stiff-limbed  old  dog,  whose  master  has 
gone  into  a  house  and  left  him  waiting  on  the  door- 
step. Sight  and  scent  and  hearing  have  all  grown  dim, 
but  there  is  yet  another  sense  that  will  tell  him  when 
his  master  comes,  and  he  will  follow  him,  yes,  follow  to 
the  end. 

"  Good  -  morning.   Quash,"   said  Priscilla,  gently. 
How  is  the  rheumatism  ?    Did  the  opodeldoc  do  you 
good?" 

"  T'ank  you  kin'ly.  Mis'  Prissie,  it  done  me  heap  o* 
good,  t'ank  you." 

"  Who  rubbed  it  on  for  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  it  ain't  been  rubbed  on  yit,  Mis'  Pris,  'cause 
Phyllis  pooty  mis'able  in  her  feelin's  dese  days,  an'  I 
don'  keer  'bout  strippin'  off  'fore  dese  new  niggers ;  but 
it  done  me  heaps  o'  good  to  t'ink  Mis'  Pris  done  put  it 
up  fer  pore  old  unc'  Quash,  an'  de  piece  o'  frannel  an' 
all  so  pooty  and  nice.  I  '11  go  tell  mas'r  Mis'  Pris 
a-comin'." 

And  retreating  as  he  spoke,  with  many  bows  and 
scrapes,  the  old  fellow  was  out  of  hearing  before  Pris- 
cilla could  reply. 

"  And  I  '11  go  and  corroborate  the  news,"  cried  Mar- 
got,  gayly,  and  fled  away  in  another  direction.  A  little 
later  Priscilla  found  her  arranging  roses  in  a  great  In- 
dian bowl,  in  the  parlor,  looking  toward  the  sea,  the 


340  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


parlor  where  Teresa,  years  before,  had  like  a  royal  donor 
given  a  man  to  her  suppliant  rival. 

Margot,  father  says  he  should  like  a  little  ride,  and 
wants  you  to  go  with  him  and  drive/' 

"  Does  he  ?    I  am  so  glad  he  feels  stronger." 

"  So  am  I ;  he  wants  to  go  over  to  Ponds,  to  see  Dr. 
Ivory  Hovey." 

"  Is  he  ready  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  there the  chaise  at  the  door." 

"  I  '11  run  and  get  my  hat." 
But  one  word  more,  Maggie,"  — 
No,  no,  we  must  n't  keep  father  waiting." 

And  Priscilla  could  not  get  another  word  with  her 
sister,  until  the  latter,  radiant  and  provoking,  ran  down 
the  stairs  and  lightly  sprang  into  the  chaise,  where  her 
father,  the  wan  shadow  of  his  former  self,  awaited  her. 

"  Shall  I  drive,  father  ?  "  asked  she,  taking  the  reins 
from  the  shaking  hand  with  which  Quasho  ceremoniously 
handed  them  to  his  master. 

"  Why,  yes,  if  you  want  to,  Margot,"  replied  the  in- 
valid. It  was  a  little  ceremony  performed  every  time 
Dr.  Lazarus  had  been  out  for  many  a  day. 

"  'Bye,  Pris.    Give  my  love  to  Abra'm." 

"  Good-morning,  father ;  good-morning,  Peggy." 

And  as  Mrs.  Hammatt  turned  down  the  Alley  to- 
ward her  home,  Margot  shook  the  reins  and  blithely 
drove  along  Ley  den  Street  and  down  the  steep  hill  of 
Market  Street  and  along  the  Sandwich  road,  saying ;  — 

"  Going  to  Parson  Hovey's,  are  n't  we  ?  " 

"  Yes,  daughter.  His  niece  Abiah,  S'uth'ard  How- 
land's  wife,  told  me  that  the  parson  is  but  poorly  and 
fancied  to  see  me." 

"  He  always  does  you  good,  father,  whether  you  can 
help  him  or  not." 


PARSON  HOVEY. 


341 


"Yes,  the  man  has  a  marvelous  dry  humor  that 
suits  my  fancy.  Ha !  Dr.  Nathaniel  Lothrop,  was  it 
not?" 

"Yes,  father." 

"  I  wish  we  had  stopped  and  asked  him  how  his  wife 
finds  herself  to-day." 

"  I  heard  that  Madam  Hobart,  her  mother,  was  here 
to  visit  her,"  said  Margot,  knowing  that  her  father  cared 
for  little  bits  of  town  news  like  this. 

"Ah  —  Madam  Hobart,"  replied  he;  "a  fine  wo- 
man, a  prodigious  fine  woman ;  she  was  Madam  Lo- 
throp, you  know,  and  before  that  she  was  Mrs.  Wat- 
son." 

"  And  before  that  ?  " 

"  Oh,  she  was  born  Priscilla  Thomas,  of  Marshfield, 
and  there 's  a  story  to  it.  While  she  was  a  girl  there 
at  home,  and  Caleb  Thomas  was  not  too  well  off  in  this 
world's  gear,  a  young  Divinity  student,  Noah  Hobart 
by  name,  came  a-wooing,  and  got  the  maiden's  promise 
easily  enough ;  but  the  father  demurred,  for  he  knew 
that  parsons  are  apt  to  be  more  blessed  in  progeny  than 
pence,  and  Noah  was  not  even  a  parson  yet.  While  the 
question  was  hanging,  John  Watson,  grandfather  of  the 
John  who  married  Lucia  Marston  t'other  day,  and  who 
was  a  rich  young  widower,  with  house  next  to  your 
sister  Lyddy's  there,  came  a-courting  also,  and  the 
father  at  once  gave  the  vote  for  him.  You  see  it  would 
be  so  convenient  to  have  a  place  in  Plymouth  to  stop 
over  night  when  he  came  to  Sessions  Court,  and  he  was 
a  very  litigious  man." 

"  Father !  " 

"Well,  Caleb  put  the  matter  before  Priscilla  fairly 
enough,  and  she  told  Noah  all  about  it,  expecting  to  be 


342    DR,  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


much  praised  for  her  constancy;  but  Noah  was  cool 
and  sensible  even  in  those  days,  and  wise  beyond  his 
years.  He  considered  the  matter  for  a  while,  and  then 
told  her  that  her  father  was  right ;  marriage  with  him 
meant  long  waiting,  even  for  the  daily  bread  absolutely 
necessary,  and  that  it  was  likely  enough  the  butter  for 
it  would  never  come.  John  Watson  was  a  good  man, 
and  a  rich  man,  and  her  life  with  him  would  be  safe 
and  prosperous,  and  she  could  give  a  helping  hand  to 
the  sisters  coming  up  behind,  so  he  released  her  from 
her  promise,  and  forestalling  a  little  his  ministerial 
privileges  gave  her  his  blessing  and  bade  her  good-by." 

The  horrid,  hateful  jilt  of  a  man !  exclaimed  Mar- 
got,  bringing  the  whip  down  so  sharply  on  the  old  horse's 
back  as  to  make  him  caper. 

"  So  Priscilla  thought,"  replied  the  doctor,  dryly. 
And  instead  of  meekly  accepting  the  blessing  and  the 
advice,  she  sent  her  reasonable  lover  away  with  a  flea  in 
his  ear,  and  then  cried  herself  sick.    Silly  girl,  was  n't 
she,  Margot,  to  quarrel  with  her  best  friend  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  she  expected  to  make  it  up,"  suggested 
Margot  with  a  little  smile. 

"  Perhaps  she  did ;  but  Noah  had  spirit  as  well  as 
judgment,  and  the  next  news  was  that  he  had  engaged 
himself  to  Ellen  Sloss,  a  very  pretty  girl,  with  a  very 
pretty  purse.  Then  Priscilla  accepted  John  Watson  in 
a  hurry  and  was  married  before  Hobart  graduated, 
which  no  doubt  was  a  comfort  to  her.  Two  or  three 
years  later,  just  after  Hobart's  marriage,  Watson  died, 
leaving  Priscilla  a  handsome  and  wealthy  widow,  but 
too  late  for  Noah,  you  see." 

I  hope  Ellen  Sloss  did  n't  know  about  it,  or  she 
might  have  felt  de  troj),"  remarked  Margot,  saucily. 


PARSON  HOVEY. 


343 


"She  probably  did  not.  So  prudent  a  man  would 
have  kept  a  discreet  silence  upon  such  a  subject  Well, 
Isaac  Lothrop,  himself  a  widower,  devoted  himself  to 
comforting  the  widow,  and  was  so  successful  that  she 
presently  married  him,  and  made  him  an  admirable 
wife.  Then  Mrs.  Hobart  died  and  Isaac  Lothrop 
died,  and  at  last  those  two  stood  face  to  face  with  only 
three  graves  and  some  thirty  years  between  them.  A 
trifle,  you  see,  a  mere  bagatelle,  even  if  you  add  the 
circumstance  that  her  son  Nathaniel  Lothrop  and  his 
daughter  Ellen  Hobart  were  already  betrothed  — 

"  Father  !  You  make  my  head  reel." 

"  A  four-handed  reel,  my  dear,  since  they  all  were 
married,  and  life  seems  to  go  merry  as  a  marriage  bell 
with  all  of  them,  except  that  poor  Mrs.  Ellen  Lothrop 
has  inherited  her  father's  weak  lungs,  and  won't  live 
very  long.  I  don't  know  whether  Nat  has  any  little 
plans  for  the  future  or  not ;  but  here  we  are  at  Ponds. 
You  have  been  so  agreeable,  my  dear,  that  the  way  has 
seemed  very  short." 

Margot,  who  was  accustomed  to  her  father's  humor, 
made  no  reply,  but  skillfully  drew  rein  before  a  charm- 
ing old  house,  gambrel-roofed  and  painted  red.  In  front 
was  a  great  square  porch  with  benches  at  the  sides,  a 
white  rose  bush  closing  in  one  side  of  it  and  a  red  one 
the  other,  both  on  this  June  day  full  of  bloom  and  bees 
and  humming-birds.  A  well  with  a  long  sweep  lay  at 
one  side  the  house,  an  apple  orchard  behind,  two  great 
elms  with  seats  around  them  in  front.  Turf  close  as 
velvet,  and  green  as  grass,  lay  like  a  royal  carpet  from 
the  roadside  to  the  low  sunken  natural  rock  forming  the 
doorstone,  smoothed  and  polished  through  fifty  years  by 
the  feet  of  the  poor,  the  sorrowful,  the  perplexed,  the 


844  DK  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


weary,  the  discouraged,  all  who  needed  a  friend,  a  fa- 
ther, and  a  pastor ;  for  Parson  Hovey  was  all  of  this  to 
his  people,  and  not  one  of  them  but  brought  to  him  his 
troubles,  if  he  brought  little  else.  Sometimes  they 
brought  their  joys  and  successes  also,  but  at  Manomet 
Ponds,  as  with  the  rest  of  the  world,  these  have  never 
made  a  large  percentage  of  the  total,  and  like  the  other 
good  things  of  life,  people  are  apt  to  keep  them  for 
themselves. 

"  Ah,  good-morning,  good-morning.  Doctor !  And 
good-morning  to  you,  my  dear.  Anna  is  at  home  with 
her  baby  and  will  be  amazing  proud  to  show  him  to 
you.  Come  in.  Doctor,  come  in,  and  have  a  glass  of 
home-made  wine  or  a  gentle  sip  of  spirits  after  your 
ride." 

And  with  careful,  cordial  grasp  that  looked  like  greet- 
ing and  really  was  assistance,  the  hale  old  man  led  the 
older  man  from  his  carriage  to  the  door  and  seated  him 
in  the  armchair  whence  he  had  just  risen,  while  a 
comely  young  matron  bustled  out  to  meet  the  guests, 
and  her  mother  smiled  in  the  open  doorway. 

"  Dominicus  will  see  that  your  horse  is  put  up,  and 
you  must  stay  for  dinner,"  said  the  parson,  and  wife  and 
daughter  echoed  the  invitation  so  cordially  that  the  doc- 
tor, a  little  shaken  by  his  drive,  and  Margot,  who  en- 
joyed the  esthetic  "  values  "  of  Ponds  parsonage  and  its 
inmates,  gladly  accepted.  So  soon  as  this  was  settled 
ihe  women  disappeared  carrying  Margot  with  them,  and 
the  two  old  men,  pipe  in  hand,  and  a  cool  tankard  with 
glasses  upon  the  bench  beside  them,  settled  for  a  talk. 

"And  what  was  this  I  heard  of  your  stealing  my 
trade  and  setting  a  man's  jaw,  the  other  day  ?  "  asked 
the  doctor,  whereat  the  parson  laughed,  and  taking  a 


PARSON  HOVEY. 


345 


long  pull  at  his  pipe,  sent  a  spire  of  smoke  high  into  the 
air. 

"  Why,  you  know  I  studied  medicine  before  I  did  di- 
vinity, and  sometimes  think  I  know  as  little  of  the  one 
as  t'other,''  said  he,  cheerily.  "  Well,  it  chanced  this 
way.  I  had  been  down  town  contending  with  Brother 
Bobbins  over  this  Halfway  Covenant  business.  I  think 
he  is  doing  himself  and  his  people  a  mischief  because 
he  will  have  all  men  follow  the  rule  of  John  Calvin  as 
straightly  as  he  does  himself.  But  Calvin  was  no  more 
than  a  man,  and  so  limited  by  his  own  day  and  genera- 
tion ;  and  God  who  is  Infinite  has  made  man  with  a  ca- 
pacity of  growth  and  development  which  makes  the  new 
generation  chafe  against  the  limits  of  the  old,  and  so 
cast  away  the  swaddling  bands — well,  well,  I  won't 
give  you  my  sermon  dished  up  anew,  but  after  this  talk 
with  Robbins,  I  preached  it  all  the  next  Sunday,  and 
perhaps  being  full  of  the  matter  waxed  lengthy  and 
abstruse  ;  at  any  rate,  I  sent  some  of  them  off  to  sleep, 
and  the  warden  had  occasion  not  only  to  tap  the 
men's  numskulls  with  the  deer's  foot,  but  to  tickle  the 
women's  noses  with  the  fox's  brush,  more  than  once. 
Still,  as  I  found  it  a  help  to  my  own  understanding  to 
put  my  convictions  into  words,  I  continued  until  the 
seventh  head  of  my  discourse  and  announced  it,  whereat 
Penuel  Virgin,  straight  in  front  of  the  pulpit,  gaped  so 
prodigiously  as  to  dislocate  his  nether  jaw,  which,  when 
the  gape  was  done,  refused  to  return  to  its  ordinary 
position.  The  man's  aspect  was  peculiar,  and  although 
distressing,  was  also  in  some  sort  so  diverting  that 
many  of  our  younger  members  began  to  giggle,  while 
others,  chiefly  among  the  women,  loudly  expressed  sym- 
pathy, and  ran  to  proffer  the  assistance  they  knew  not 


346    DR.  LeBARON  and  his  DAUGHTERS. 


how  to  give.  All  this  of  course  made  an  unseemly  inter- 
ruption to  divine  service  and  must  be  stopped,  not  to 
mention  that  Christian  charity  which  prompts  us  to 
emulate  the  Good  Samaritan  in  works  of  corporal 
mercy,  so  that  merely  pausing  to  round  the  period 
which  I  was  approaching,  I  came  down  from  the  pulpit, 
brushed  aside  the  women,  and  planting  my  thumb  upon 
the  end  of  the  refractory  jaw-bone  while  my  fingers 
gripped  the  man's  chin,  I  snapped  the  bone  into  place, 
and  pushing  up  the  chin  closed  his  mouth  and  held  it 
shut,  the  while  I  remarked  :  — 

" '  Such  is  the  penalty  appointed  for  them  who  receive 
sound  doctrine  with  gapes  of  slothful  indifference.' 

"  Then  as  Penuel,  daring  not  to  open  his  mouth  for 
reply,  got  out  his  kerchief  and  bound  up  his  jaw  like  a 
dead  man,  I  returned  to  the  pulpit  and  gave  them  the 
remaining  three  heads  of  the  discourse,  through  which 
no  man  gaped  and  no  woman  dozed." 

"  Right  glad  am  I,  parson,  that  I  came  to  Ponds  this 
day.  I  have  not  had  a  generous  laugh  since  I  saw  you 
last,"  remarked  the  doctor,  filling  his  glass  and  wiping 
his  merry  eyes. 

'T  is  better  than  calomel  for  the  liver,"  replied  the 
parson,  with  a  twinkling  smile,  "  and  when  I  feel  the 
megrims  hovering  about  my  head,  I  shut  up  Calvin  or 
Edwards  or  Knox  and  go  out  to  see  my  parishioners. 
Did  I  ever  tell  you  of  Sally  Salisbury's  pies  ?  " 
No." 

"  Well,  it  was  in  the  winter,  and  a  cold  day ;  so  after 
Sally  had  allowed  my  plea  to  sit  beside  the  kitchen  fire, 
rather  than  in  the  chilly  ceremony  of  the  fore-room  with 
its  sputtering  blaze,  she  proposed  a  mug  of  mulled  cider 
and  a  cut  of  mince-pie,  to  the  which  I  graciously  con- 


PARSON  HOVEY. 


347 


sented,  and  watched  with  quiet  satisfaction  as  the  cider 
was  set  to  warm  in  a  copper  saucepan  bright  as  gold,  and 
the  tin  baker  pushed  up  to  receive  the  pie  ;  but  presently 
Sally,  who  had  been  to  the  pantry,  returned  with  a  look 
of  perplexity  and  a  pie  in  either  hand. 

" '  Parson,'  says  she,  '  you  know  most  everything, 
and  may  be  you  can  help  me  out  in  this.  'T  was 
only  yesterday  I  baked  both  mince  and  apple  pies,  ar*^ 
keyed  all  the  edges  so  tight  to  keep  in  the  juice  that 
there 's  no  peeping  at  their  in'ards ;  then  by  way  of 
head-mark  I  cut  in  the  middle  of  every  mince -pie, 
"  t.  m.,"  which  stands  for  " 't  is  mince,"  and  on  every 
apple-pie  I  set  "  t.  m."  to  signify  " 't  is  n't  mince,"  and 
now  I  can't  tell  t'other  from  which,  and  I'm  sure  I 
don't  see  why.'  " 

"And  you  —  what  did  you  do  ?  "  demanded  LeBaron, 
wiping  his  eyes. 

"  Oh,  I  bade  her  bring  the  two  pies  to  me  for  a  sort 
of  judgment  of  Solomon,  and  with  my  pocket-knife  I 
'  tapped '  first  one  and  then  the  other,  as  one  does  a 
melon,  and  so  discovered  their  contents.  Sally  has  been 
very  punctual  at  church  ever  since,  having  gained  a  new 
respect  for  her  pastor's  talents." 

"  Well,  well,  I  have  n't  anything  as  good  as  that  to  teU 
you,"  said  the  doctor,  "  but  I  brought  just  a  crumb  to  add 
to  your  feast.  The  other  day  Parson  Robbins  was  walk- 
ing with  Colonel  Watson,  and  met  our  old  friend  Sam, 
just  up  from  Saquish,  with  a  bunch  of  peeps  for  sale. 
The  colonel,  who  likes  a  toothsome  dish  as  well  as  any 
man,  stopped  to  consider  the  peeps,  and  asked  how  many 
of  them  there  were. 

"  '  Ninety-and-nine,  Colonel,'  replied  Sam  with  great 
eolemnity ;  ^  not  one  more,  and  not  one  less.' 


848    DR,  LeBARON  and  bis  DAUGHTERS. 


"  *  Pho,  Sam,  why  don't  you  call  it  a  hundred,  and  be 
done  with  it  ? '  asks  the  colonel,  laughing,  and  Sam,  roll- 
ing up  his  eyes  at  the  parson,  replies  ;  — 

"  '  Think  I 'm  such  a  fool  as  to  resk  my  soul  for  one 
d—d  little  peep?'" 

"  Ho,  ho  !  "  chuckled  Parson  Hovey.  "  That  matches 
Sam's  other  peep  story  that  Winslow  used  to  tell.  A 
lot  of  them  were  down  at  Saquish  and  went  out  fishing 
with  Sam.  Something  was  said  about  peeps,  and  White 
sung  out :  — 

"  *  Sam,  what  is  that  story  about  your  eating  stewed 
peeps  on  a  wager?  How  many  did  you  account  for, 
finally?' 

"  *  No  use  in  telling  you.  Colonel,'  says  Sam,  '  you 'd 
only  be  passing  your  jokes  on  me ;  you  would  n't  be- 
lieve me,  not  more  than  half,  anyway,  you  know  you 
would  n't.' 

"  *  Think  not,  Sam  ?  Well,  try  me  on  half,  and  see  if 
I  can  swallow  that,  and  then  we  will  talk  about  the  other 
half.' 

"  *  Half  —  half  ? '  says  Sam,  pushing  up  his  old 
sou'wester  and  scratching  his  head.  '  Well,  half  would 
be  —  le's  see  —  half  would  be  —  seventy-two,  I  guess.' " 

"  Ha,  ha !  Seventy-two  —  a  hundred  and  forty-four 
peeps  at  a  meal !  Bravo,  old  Sam  !  "  cried  the  doctor, 
smiting  his  knee,  and  the  laughter  of  the  two  old  men 
rang  out  cheerily  on  the  pure  air,  and  a  blackbird  in 
the  great  elm  set  up  his  crest  and  whistled  in  harmony. 

"  I  don't  believe  Mr.  Hovey  has  told  you  his  last  joke, 
Doctor,"  remarked  the  voice  of  the  parson's  wife  from 
the  doorway.  "  You  know  he  is  a  man  who  can  never  say 
no  to  the  man  who  asks  for  his  cloak,  though  his  coat  may 
have  gone  just  before,  so  I  have  to  look  out  for  him  a 


PARSON  HOVEY. 


849 


little,  or  there  would  be  no  coat  for  him  to  wear  into  the 
pulpit  of  a  Sunday  "  — 

^•Except  his  robe  of  righteousness,  madam,'*  inter- 
posed the  doctor. 

"  White  robes  in  the  pulpit  savor  of  Papistry,"  re- 
plied the  dame,  slyly,  and  went  on :  "  So  the  other  day, 
looking  from  my  chamber  window,  I  spied  the  parson 
out  in  the  road,  talking  with  a  man  I  know,  and  know 
little  good  of  except  that  he 's  a  very  'professing' 
Christian  and  always  going  to  do  better.  Wei],  I 
watched,  and  pretty  soon  I  saw  my  husband  take  a  sil- 
ver dollar  out  of  his  pocket,  where  I  knew 't  was  lone- 
some, and  pass  it  over  to  the  man,  who  ducked  his  head 
and  scraped  his  foot,  and  scrambled  ofiE  to  drink  it  up." 
Olivia,  my  dear !  Remember  "  — 
Just  one  minute,  husband,  and  I 'm  done.  He 
came  in,  Doctor,  looking  as  pleased  as  though  he 'd  got 
a  dollar  instead  of  spending  one,  and  I  said,  '  Why  did 
you  give  that  man  a  dollar,  husband  ? '  and  he  replied, 
*  Because  I  owed  it  to  him. '  '  Owed  it ! '  says  I,  for  he 
never  owes  any  man  a  farthing.  *  Yes,'  says  he,  *  I  owe 
every  poor  devil  something,  for  I 've  got  more  than  my 
share  of  blessings.'    And  dinner 's  ready,  Doctor." 


CHAPTER  XXXVU. 


A  MYSTERY. 

"  Oh,  Pris,  it  is  so  good  of  you  to  do  this  for  me !  " 

"  I  don't  feel  that  it  is  good,  Nan,  I  am  afraid  it 's 
only  weak.  I  don't  believe  it  can  do  you  any  good  to 
see  this  old  witch,  and  I  believe  it  *s  for  more  than  her 
herbs  that  you  visit  her." 

"  Dear  Pris,  it  is  so  kind  of  you  to  go  and  carry  me !  " 

"  But  you  won't  say  that  you  go  only  for  medicine  ?  " 

"  Priscilla,  I  have  not  very  long  to  live,  nor  much  joy 
while  I  live ;  do  not  grudge  me  any  indulgence  that 
makes  life  more  tolerable.  You  have  a  husband,  and 
children,  and  a  home,  and  you  need  not  to  seek  com- 
fort in  strange  places  ;  but  all  is  different  with  me  !  " 

"  Hannah,  you  break  my  heart  when  you  speak  in 
that  voice,  and  I  could  not  deny  you  the  very  pieces  of 
it,  if  they  would  pleasure  you." 

"  I  know  it,  Pris,  and  I  love  you  for  it." 

"  And  after  all,  more  than  you  have  gone  to  mother 
Crewe  to  get  their  fortunes  told,  and  will  again,  and 
nobody  has  died  of  it,  so  far  as  I  've  been  told  ;  so  get 
up,  Wally,  get  up." 

And  Priscilla  Hammatt,  with  rather  a  doleful  look  at 
the  lowering  sky  and  gloomy  pine  woods  closing  around 
the  road,  laid  the  whip  upon  Wally,  the  horse  Captain 
Hammatt  had  chosen  to  call  Walrus  from  some  like- 
ness in  his  motion  to  the  floundering  of  a  sea-horse, 


A  MYSTERY, 


351 


and  turned  him  off  the  Carver  Road  into  a  woodpath 
leading  to  the  cabin  where  mother  Crewe  still  lived 
and  waited,  although  her  age  had  become  as  mythical 
as  her  means  of  subsistence. 

"  I  hate  to  leave  you  here,  Hannah,"  said  she  again, 
as  Wally,  with  a  last  ponderous  exertion,  dragged  the 
chaise  out  of  the  deep  ruts  and  turned  aside  to  the 
cabin  door.  "  Mind  you,  it  will  be  a  good  two  hours  or 
more  before  I  can  reach  Lucas's,  do  my  errand  about 
the  wood,  and  get  back  here." 

"  Never  mind,  Pris,  we  shall  be  at  home  before  sir 
o'clock,  even  so." 

"  Yes ;  but  if  she  scare  you.  Nan,  and  there 's  no 
getting  away  ?  " 

"  She  won't,  she  won't,"  replied  Hannah,  rather  pee- 
vishly. There,  Pris,  let  me  have  my  own  way  and  kiss 
me  good-by,  though  I 'm  so  f roward  and  vex  you  so 
sorely." 

"  You  don't  vex  me,  Nan,  but  —  well,  see  if  the  old 
thing 's  at  home  before  I  go." 

"  Oh,  she  expects  me  —  that  is  —  I  '11  see,  yes." 

And  as  Hannah,  a  sudden  color  in  her  pale  face, 
slipped  from  the  carriage  and  knocked  upon  the  crazy 
door,  Priscilla  felt  the  vague  terror  at  her  heart  sharpen 
and  intensify. 

She  expected  her !  "  said  she  softly ;  "  and  Hannah 
never  told  me !  " 

The  door  opened  a  crack,  and  Hannah,  peering  in, 
turned  back  to  her  friend  with  a  gesture  both  of  assent 
and  of  tender  deprecation. 

"  She 's  at  home,  Priscilla,  —  oh,  Pris,  don't  look  like 
that!" 

"  You  might  have  told  me  it  was  an  appointment, 


352  DR,  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


Hannah,  but  there  —  come  kiss  me  good-by,  child,  and 
don't  get  scared.    I  '11  be  back  as  soon  as  I  can." 

"  Good-by,  Pris  !  "  And  standing  on  the  step  of  the 
chaise,  Hannah  lifted  her  pale  dark  face  to  Priscilla's 
rosy  one,  and  the  friends  kissed  lovingly. 

Then  Priscilla  drove  thoughtfully  away,  and  Hannah, 
pushing  open  the  door,  entered  a  gloomy  room,  compris- 
ing the  whole  area  of  the  house,  and  yet  too  small  for 
the  multifarious  contents.  The  only  window  was  closely 
curtained,  and  when  the  door  was  shut  no  light  remained 
except  a  dull  glow  from  the  turf  upon  the  hearth.  Close 
beside  its  glimmering  spark  some  wild  creature,  tamed 
by  the  witch's  arts,  crouched,  growling  sullenly  at  the 
stranger's  step. 

Be  quiet,  Milcom,  or  I  '11  put  thy  paw  in  the  fire 
again,"  cried  mother  Crewe,  fiercely,  and  the  creature 
cowered  and  was  still. 

"  It  is  well  you  came  to-day,  girl,  for  there  are  mighty 
ones  in  the  air,  and  there  is  much  to  see.  You  brought 
the  silver  and  the  gold  ?  " 

"  Here  they  are,  and  the  gold  was  hard  to  come  by." 

"  Yes,  —  and  knowledge  such  as  mine  is  hard  to 
come  by.  And  the  meat  and  the  bread  and  the  strong 
waters  ?  " 

"  They  are  in  this  basket." 

"  And  the  lock  of  your  own  hair,  cut  at  the  full  of  the 
moon  ?  " 

"  Here  it  is." 

"  And  you  have  said  no  prayers  for  the  last  four-and- 
twenty  hours  ?  " 

"  God  forgive  me  —  no." 

"  Hush,  fool !  Don't  anger  those  you  have  summoned, 
and  who  can  tell  you  what  you  want  to  know.    Sit  you 


A  MYSTERY, 


353 


down  here,  fix  your  eyes  upon  that  corner,  and  your 
thoughts  on  him  you  're  fain  to  see.  Speak  not  a  word, 
nor  stir,  whatever  you  may  look  upon,  or  whatever  I 
may  say.    Be  eyes  and  ears,  and  nothing  more.'' 

As  she  spoke,  the  hag  placed  a  low  seat  in  the  centre 
of  the  room,  spreading  over  it  a  cloth  curiously  em- 
broidered around  the  edges  with  cabalistic  signs.  Upon 
this  she  placed  Hannah,  taking  care  that  no  part  of  her 
body  or  her  clothes  projected  beyond  the  cloth.  This 
done  she  covered  the  embers  of  the  fire  so  that  for  a 
moment  total  darkness  and  silence  filled  the  place. 
Then  in  the  remotest  corner  of  the  room  a  thin  blue 
flame  flickered  up,  and  was  reflected  in  Milcom's  phos- 
phorescent eyes ;  the  smell  and  sound  of  burning  hair 
succeeded,  and  with  it  a  wild  chant,  now  rising  to  shrill- 
ness, now  sinking  to  a  melancholy  wail,  to  groans,  and 
sibilant  whispers,  and  muttered  words,  and  the  weary 
breathings  of  exhaustion. 

Hannah,  silent,  motionless,  terrified  but  resolute,  a 
cold  moisture  upon  her  brow,  and  her  clenched  hands 
cold  as  ice,  never  moved  her  eyes  from  the  corner 
where  she  had  been  bidden  to  look,  and  noted  the 
strange  waves  and  flashes  of  color  that  swept  from  time 
to  time  across  the  black  background  of  the  scene.  A 
creeping  chill  filled  the  air ;  a  distant  sound,  as  of  surf 
breaking  upon  a  beach  half  heard  through  restless  sleep, 
forced  itself  upon  her  consciousness ;  an  awful  terror 
seemed  to  freeze  the  blood  at  her  heart ;  a  wild  long- 
ing to  fly  to  the  rescue  of  something  dearer  than  her 
own  life  combated  with  a  numbing  sense  of  disability. 
Then  in  the  sweeping  masses  of  vapor,  shadowy  forms 
began  to  shape  themselves,  —  the  ice-laden  rigging  of  a 
vessel,  driving  sheets  of  sleet,  men  staggering  before 


354    DR.  LeBARON  and  his  DAUGHTERS. 


them,  fighting  against  them,  heaten  down  and  trampled 
to  death  by  the  demon  of  the  storm.  A  sense  of  helpless 
flight  before  a  deadly  enemy  sure  to  conquer  in  the  end, 
of  misery  and  mortal  weariness,  of  struggle  without 
hope,  and  the  desperate  defiance  that  ends  in  despair, 
—  all  passed  over  her,  all  seemed  to  drag  her  into  union 
with  those  shadowy  figures,  momently  growing  more 
and  more  distinct  before  some  interior  perception  that 
seemed  to  use  her  bodily  eyes  merely  as  windows, 
through  which  it  gazed  upon  what  those  human  eyes 
could  not  have  seen. 

One  figure  grew  gradually  more  distinct  than  all  the 
rest :  a  man,  mufiled  as  all  were  to  the  eyes,  staggered 
up  and  down  the  deck,  beating  his  breast,  stamping  his 
feet,  fighting  against  the  deadly  chill  as  against  a  hu- 
man foe,  stooping  now  and  again  to  raise  a  fallen  com- 
rade, to  grasp  the  arm  of  one  dropping  into  the  sleep 
of  death  and  force  him  to  stagger  beside  him  up  and 
down  the  deck,  to  speak  a  word  of  cheer,  and  then 
himself  to  turn  and  gaze  at  some  far-off  point,  as  if  to 
gather  strength  and  hope  from  thence.  A  voice  —  was 
it  mother  Crewe's,  or  was  it  Milcom's,  or  yet  some  other 
force  ?  The  girl  knew  not,  but  it  was  a  voice,  and  said, 
or  rather  chanted  in  a  strange  and  awful  monotone  :  — 
Christmas  Day  !  Christmas  Day !  A  Christmas 
stolen  from  the  Nazarene  !  Christmas  that  scoffs  at 
Him  and  his  honor !  A  day  of  days  for  the  Prince  of 
the  Power  of  the  Air.  A  day  to  call  out  the  storm  fiends 
and  the  death  of  ice  and  sleet,  and  to  snatch  the  breath 
out  of  lips  that  forswear  the  Great  Birthday  of  the  world. 
Let  loose  the  bands  of  the  North !  Come,  O  cold  that 
kills,  and  fury  of  storm  and  smothering  snow  !  Come, 
deadly  blast  full  of  the  ice-arrows  of  death !  Come,  frozen 


A  MYSTERY. 


355 


waves  of  ocean  breaking  in  destruction !  Come,  heaving 
shoulders  of  mighty  ones  thiusting  the  ship  upon  the 
rocks  and  sands  that  wait  to  tear  her  asunder !  Hell  is 
let  loose  and  Hades  laughs,  for  they  go  down  —  go  down 
quick  into  the  yawning  gulf.  Yet  some  —  yes,  some 
must  be  saved  —  a  Power  stands  behind  the  Power  of 
the  Air,  and  some,  some  are  set  apart  for  life  and  not 
for  death  —  some  for  life  in  this  world  —  some  who  die 
to-day  pass  like  the  Three  Children  through  the  furnace 
to  safety  and  joy — yes  —  he  must  loose  his  hold  even 
though  he  snatch  their  mortal  breath  —  yet  some  are  his, 
all  his  —  the  man  who,  yet  unborn,  was  cursed  for  his 
father's  and  his  mother's  sin  —  joy,  joy,  for  he  shall 
die  —  see  —  see  —  see  how  he  is  beaten  down  by  that 
fury  of  ice  and  wind,  see  him  slip  and  fall,  and  rise 
again  and  fall  —  and  now  he  would  rise,  but  another 
falls  above  him  and  pins  him  down  —  he  dies  and  the 
curse  is  fulfilled  —  ah,  the  curse  rebounds  and  returns 
whence  it  came  out  —  the  curser  is  the  accursed  forever- 
more,  and  no  hope,  no  release,  no  pardon  "  — 

Whether  the  words  were  spoken  by  a  voice,  or  whether 
they  were  spoken  in  her  own  brain,  or  if  they  fashioned 
themselves  out  of  the  scene  that  passed  before  that 
strange  inner  sight  of  hers,  the  girl  could  never  tell  even 
to  herself  ;  nor  could  she  distinguish  what  she  heard 
from  what  she  felt  and  saw  ;  nor  could  she  tell  if  Ansel 
Ring,  sinking,  struggling,  fighting  for  life,  and  turning 
in  his  last  consciousness  toward  the  spot  where  she 
dwelt,  saw  her  and  was  with  her,  and  with  his  frozen 
lips  and  ice-bound  breath  whispered  her  name  and 
"  Good-by,  dear  love,"  or  if  she  heard  that  he  did  so,  or 
if  she  were  there,  or  he  with  her,  or  how  they  met,  — 
only  she  knew  that  they  met,  and  she  drew  in  that  icy 


356    DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


farewell  and  felt  it  carry  death  to  the  warm  life-springs 
of  her  heart. 

A  deadly  chill,  a  swooning  sickness,  a  veil  of  utter 
blackness  and  oblivion,  a  sense  of  falling  from  some 
immeasurable  height  into  unfathomable  depths,  and  she 
knew  no  more  until  a  sweet  yet  sharpened  voice  ex- 
claimed :  — 

"  What  foolishness !  I  knew  you 'd  scare  the  life  out 
of  her  some  way !  " 

And  wearily  opening  her  eyes,  she  met  Priscilla's 
anxious  and  loving  gaze,  and  at  the  same  time  felt  her 
head  raised  and  a  cup  put  to  her  lips. 

"  What's  that  now  ?  What  witch-broth  are  you  giv- 
ing her  ?  "  demanded  Priscilla. 

"A  little  sperit-and-water.  Just  about  what  your 
father  has  given  many  a  time  to  fainting  folk,"  replied 
mother  Crewe,  sullenly ;  and  Hannah,  sipping  a  little,  felt 
warmth  return  to  her  frozen  veins,  and  in  a  few  moments 
was  able  to  take  her  place  in  the  chaise,  and,  leaning 
back  in  the  corner,  to  slowly  recover  her  full  conscious- 
ness and  memory. 

Priscilla,  who  was  vexed  and  unhappy,  and  also  in  a 
great  hurry,  urged  the  old  horse  on,  and  remained  silent 
until  her  companion  softly  asked  :  — 

"  What 's  Christmas,  Pris  ?  " 

"  Christmas  ?  Why,  one  of  the  Popish  mummeries, 
when  they  burn  spirits  in  a  bowl  and  play  games.  We 
don't  hold  to  such  doings  in  this  country,  you  know. 
T 've  heard  father  tell  of  it  when  he  was  in  England,  and 
how  the  men  kissed  the  maids  under  a  branch  of  a  tree 
hung  up." 

"  But  —  is  it  —  is  it  somebody's  birthday  ?  "  hesitated 
Hannah,  dreamily. 


A  MYSTERY, 


357 


"  Birthday  —  well  there,  perhaps  it  is  the  Pope  o* 
Rome's  !  It  seems  to  me  as  if  something  was  said  of  a 
birthday ;  but  it 's  Popish;  anyway,  and  we've  naught  to 
do  with  it.    Did  mother  Crewe  tell  you  about  it  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  n  —  o  —  I  can't  tell,"  stammered  Hannah, 
and  Priscilla  angrily  flicked  Wally's  ears,  and  drove 
home  through  the  gathering  December  twilight. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

A  WOFUL  DAY.  —  A  PITEOUS  SIGHT. 

Christmas  Eve,  in  the  Year  of  our  Lord  1778,  fell 
upon  a  Thursday,  and  while  those  of  the  patriots  remain- 
ing in  Boston  who  had  hearts  large  enough  to  combine 
resistance  to  England's  tyranny  with  loyalty  to  England's 
Church  kept  the  festival  as  best  they  might,  Captain 
Magee,  of  the  privateer  brigantine  General  Arnold, 
mounting  twenty  guns  and  carrying  a  hundred  and  five 
men  and  boys  as  her  crew,  selected  it  as  his  day  for  sail- 
ing out  of  Boston,  bound  on  a  cruise. 

Captain  Magee,  by  birth  an  Irish  Protestant  and  by 
nature  a  hero,  neither  knew  nor  cared  much  about 
Christmas  Eve,  but  he  knew  and  cared  a  great  deal 
about  sailors,  and  would  have  been  very  sorry  to  begin 
his  voyage  on  a  Friday,  knowing  that  it  would  be  logged 
unlucky  by  every  man  and  boy  of  his  hundred  and  five ; 
yes,  even  by  Tommy  Marchant,  the  hundred  and  sixth, 
a  young  gentleman  aged  ten,  whom  the  captain  had 
good-naturedly  promised  to  deliver  to  his  friends  at 
Martha's  Vineyard,  when  he  should  put  in  at  Holmes 
Hole. 

So,  hurrying  matters  a  little,  the  General  Arnold  took 
her  formal  departure  from  Long  Wharf  about  sunset  on 
Christmas  Eve,  with  an  ominous  sky  overhead,  and  a 
sullen  and  moody  west  wind  astern. 

"  Dirty  weather  ahead.  Captain,"  remarked  Jethro 
Coffin,  master's  mate,  and  a  man  whose  years  and  wis- 
dom gave  him  leave  to  speak. 


A  PITEOUS  SIGHT. 


359 


"  We  '11  make  dirty  weather  for  the  first  fat  prize  we 
come  across,  Master,"  replied  the  captain,  cheerily,  and 
the  ancient  mariner  walked  forward,  saying  in  his  throat, 

"  Hope  we  Ul  get  as  far  as  old  Nantucket,  anyway ; 
I'd  rather  lay  my  bones  there, than "  — 

The  boatswain's  whistle  piping  to  supper  cut  short  the 
wish,  and  the  Fates  denied  it. 

A  baffling  and  anxious  night  passed,  and  Christmas 
Day  broke  with  every  storm-sign  augmented  and  immi- 
lient.  About  noon  the  variable  wind  settled  into  the 
northeast,  and  speedily  rose  to  a  gale.  Failing  to  reach 
the  open  sea,  Magee  resolved  to  run  into  Plymouth  Har- 
bor, and  at  nightfall,  under  storm  stay-sails  and  with  two 
men  at  the  helm,  drove  past  the  Gurnet,  and  unable  to 
signal  for  a  pilot  in  the  darkness,  anchored  in  the  Cow 
Yard.  But  still  the  storm  gathered  force,  and  the  gale 
rose  to  its  height,  bringing  in  fierce  bursts  of  sleet  and 
frozen  snow,  covering  decks,  masts,  and  rigging  with  ar- 
mor of  ice.  The  cables  strained,  moaned  like  gigantic 
harpstrings,  and  finally  parted  with  an  explosion  like 
thunder.  Driving  like  a  plaything  before  the  fury  of 
the  storm,  the  brigantine  plunged  forward  and  struck 
heavily  upon  White  Flat,  burying  her  nose  in  the  sand 
like  some  poor  wounded  monster,  checked  in  mid  career 
by  the  hunter's  bullet  in  his  shoulder. 

"  Cut  away  the  masts  and  hamper,  and  she  may  drive 
over,"  shouted  the  captain  in  Coffin's  ear,  and  through 
the  shrieks  of  the  wind  came  the  hoarse  bellow  of  the 
trumpet,  and  the  ominous  order  :  — 

"  Cut  away  the  main-mast  "  —  and  the  rest  was  lost 
in  a  howl  of  the  wind. 

Saturday  morning  dawned  in  such  a  fury  of  winter 
storm  as  makes  its  record  upon  the  history  of  a  country. 


360   DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


Wind,  and  sea,  and  sleet,  and  snow,  and  frozen  foam  torn 
from  the  crests  of  the  waves,  washing  contemptuously  all 
over  the  decks,  dashed  like  ammunition  into  the  faces 
of  men  who  defied  human  foes  and  laughed  at  their 
menace,  hut  who  cowered  aghast  at  the  malignant  fury 
of  the  elements. 

Beating  upon  the  hard  sands  of  the  Flat,  the  vessel 
had  bilged  and  settled  by  the  head,  so  that  every  sea 
broke  over  the  main  deck,  and  the  crew  huddled  upon 
the  quarter  deck,  where  now  one  and  then  another, 
stifled  by  the  snow,  stunned  by  the  waves,  frozen  to  ici- 
cles as  they  clung  to  the  only  shrouds  they  should  ever 
know,  fell  and  died,  or  died  in  such  attitudes  of  life  that 
their  comrades  shouted  counsel  into  dead  ears. 

"  The  men  are  at  the  spirit-cask !  "  cried  the  first 
officer  in  the  captain's  ear,  and  repeated  it,  until  word 
by  word  it  was  snatched  from  the  tempest. 

The  two  looked  at  each  other,  and  without  more  ado 
made  their  way  down  tlie  companion,  and  forward  to 
where,  just  out  of  reach  of  the  flood  washing  the  main 
deck,  a  crowd  of  sailors  and  mariners  clung  like  bees 
around  the  cask  of  rum,  broached  only  the  day  before, 
and  so  ravenously  drowned  their  sorrow  in  the  fiery 
liquid  that  a  dozen  or  more  had  drowned  their  bodies 
as  well,  and  washed  hither  and  thither  in  the  flood 
amidships.  The  captain  looked,  raised  his  voice,  and 
shouted  a  command  neither  heard  nor  heeded,  then  nod- 
ding to  his  officer  to  imitate  him,  seized  an  axe  thrown 
aside  after  cutting  the  masts  away,  and  swinging  it 
around  his  head,  brought  it  down  so  squarely  upon  the 
head  of  the  cask,  as  it  lay  upon  its  side,  as  to  start  the 
seasoned  oak  from  its  grooves,  and  let  the  poison  out  in 
a  stream.    A  wild  howl  of  rage  and  defiance  rose  from 


A  PITEOUS  SIGHT. 


361 


despeiite*.^  lips,  and  oaths  and  menaces  mingled  upon 
the  air  with  the  fumes  of  the  spirit ;  but  the  axe  was 
keen  and  heavy,  and  the  captain's  eye  was  resolute, 
and  no  resistance  was  made.  Another  blow  and  an- 
other, and  the  cask  lay  a  wreck,  with  perhaps  a  gallon 
or  two  of  the  spirits  in  the  bottom.  Over  this,  the  cap- 
tain mounted  guard  with  a  pannikin  in  his  hand,  and 
after  pouring  a  portion  into  the  top  of  each  of  his  high 
sea-boots,  beckoned  the  lieutenant  and  did  the  same  for 
him,  with  as  many  of  the  men  as  would  submit ;  and 
those  men  had  no  frozen  feet,  and  many  of  them  were 
among  the  survivors,  while  those  who  drank  and  slept, 
or  drank  and  raved,  were  among  the  first  to  die. 

"  Tommy  Marchant !  "  roared  the  captain,  in  the  ear 
of  old  Cofiin,  who  had  been  by  his  side  in  the  incip- 
ient mutiny,  and  the  Nantucket  man  nodded  and 
scrambled  aft,  presently  returning  with  a  little  muflBed 
figure  in  his  arms,  half  carrying,  half  guiding  it,  until, 
just  in  reach  of  the  captain's  arm,  both  stumbled  and 
fell  before  a  swoop  of  the  tempest  almost  like  the 
snatch  of  a  personal  fiend,  and  as  the  captain,  darting 
forward,  seized  the  boy,  the  man  whirled  over  and  over 
like  a  dead  leaf,  flew  over  the  side,  and  was  seen  no  more. 

"  God  save  him !  "  cried  the  captain,  and  it  was  as 
good  a  funeral  service  as  that  in  the  Prayer-Book. 

"  Must  we  go  too.  Captain  ?  "  gasped  little  Marchant, 
his  blue  lips  at  the  captain's  ear. 

"  No,  my  boy  !  Your  mother 's  waiting  for  you,  and 
you  must  n't  break  her  heart.    Live  for  her  sake,  lad  !  '* 

Not  many  of  the  words  reached  the  little  fellow's  ear, 
but  the  tone  did,  and  the  words  "  mother  "  and  "  break 
her  heart,"  and  shaking  himself  together  he  smiled  with 
piteous  cheeriness  and  said,  "  Oh,  yes,  I  '11  see  mother 


362  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


again."  Years  after,  when  he  was  an  old  man  there  at 
the  Vineyard,  Tom  Marchant  said  that  Captain  Magee 
saved  his  life  by  his  brave  words,  and  by  the  rum  with 
which  he  filled  his  little  boots. 

And  now  another  blow  was  struck  at  that  doomed 
crew.  Within  hail  of  the  General  Arnold  lay  a  small 
schooner  frozen  into  the  ice  extending  far  out  from  the 
beach,  across  which  the  icy  seas  were  combing,  and  al- 
though she  was  too  small  and  too  feebly  manned  to  do 
anything  for  the  assistance  of  the  brigantine,  she  was  a 
harbor  of  refuge  for  as  many  of  the  wrecked  crew  as 
could  reach  her.  Thinking  of  this  as  he  made  his  way 
back  to  the  quarter  deck,  the  captain,  casting  an  eye 
upon  the  davits  where  swung  no  boats,  for  all  had  been 
stove  at  the  first,  said  to  himself,  "  There  is  still  the 
yawl,  and  if  I  can  keep  order,  most  of  those  able  to 
move  may  still  be  saved." 

But  hardly  were  his  shoulders  above  the  companion- 
way,  when  something  was  tossed  into  the  air  between 
him  and  the  skies,  and  with  a  gasp,  that  wellnigh  had 
been  his  last,  for  it  filled  his  lungs  with  ice,  the  com- 
mander recognized  the  yawl,  stolen  in  his  absence  by  a 
few  wretches  who  heeded  not  how  many  were  left  to 
die.  To  be  sure,  they  flung  back  a  promise  that  the  boat 
should  be  returned  by  some  of  the  schooner's  men,  but 
instead,  it  lay  on  the  edge  of  the  ice  and  stove  in  sight 
of  those  who  died  for  need  of  it,  and  yet  are  less  to  be 
pitied  than  the  deserters  who  lived  and  came  ashore  to 
hear  men's  minds  of  their  conduct. 

The  night  passed  for  a  few,  but  for  the  many  it  was 
they  who  passed,  let  us  hope  from  death  to  life,  from 
8torm  to  calm,  from  conflict  to  eternal  rest. 

Sunday  morning  broke,  and  still  the  winds  and  the 


A  PITEOUS  SIGHT. 


363 


seas  raged,  even  more  fiercely  than  at  the  first,  although 
the  snow  had  ceased,  and  the  air  was  cleared  enough  to 
let  the  survivors  see  the  beach  not  a  mile  away,  and 
farther  on  the  town  where  the  captain  with  his  glass 
could  make  out  men  cutting  away  the  boats  near  the 
wharves,  and  others  running  such  as  were  free  across 
the  ice,  and  launching  them  in  the  churning  flood  of 
water,  snow,  ice,  and  wreckage  running  furiously  through 
the  channel. 

Soon  the  men  themselves,  as  the  air  cleared  with  the 
breaking  of  the  storm,  could  see  the  efforts  made,  and  a 
sudden  hope,  a  wild  excitement  and  hurry,  took  posses- 
sion of  their  half-crazed  brains,  so  that  they  shouted 
and  danced  and  shook  each  other's  hands,  and  stood 
with  foot  and  hand  upraised  ready  to  step  upon  the 
rescuing  boat,  not  yet  within  hail.  But  alas,  and  alas  ! 
the  elements  were  still  too  mighty  in  their  wrath  to  give 
place  to  man,  and  strive  as  they  might,  the  brave  Plym- 
outh men  were  beaten  back,  and  all  but  wrecked  them- 
selves, and  more  than  one  tossed  senseless  upon  the  ice 
from  a  shattered  boat,  so  that  at  last,  as  night  fell,  they 
sadly  gave  over  their  efforts  and  began  a  retreat.  Then 
indeed  did  despair  fall  upon  those  dying  men,  and  as  the 
Plymouth  boats  turned  back  such  a  wail  went  up  from 
the  doomed  ship  as  those  who  lived  to  tell  of  it  shud- 
dered in  recalling,  even  when  years  had  passed ;  and 
many  a  one,  losing  all  hope,  lost  life  as  well,  and  fell 
prone  upon  the  deck. 

The  night  passed,  but  even  staunch  Magee,  strong 
young  fellow  though  he  was,  and  brave  and  vigilant 
commander  to  the  last,  could  never  recall  how.  All  that 
he  remembered  was  fiercely  shaking  Tommy  Marchant, 
and  forcing  him  to  pace  the  deck,  half  asleep  as  they 
both  were,  and  more  than  half  dead. 

! 


864     DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


But  with  Monday  came  a  clear  sky  and  a  subsiding 
sea  and  wind.  By  noon  the  Plymouth  men  were  on 
board,  and  not  one  among  them  ever  dared  fully  de- 
scribe the  sight.  Seventy-two  dead  men  and  near  thirty 
dying  ones  confronted  them,  the  dead  frozen  into  all 
imaginable  attitudes  :  some  erect  and  staring  blankly  out 
of  eyes  filled  with  ice ;  some  clinging  desperately  to 
ropes,  or  spars,  or  to  the  dead  bodies  beside  them,  their 
ghastly  faces  turned  toward  the  shore;  some  grinning 
in  fierce  defiance  of  their  pain;  some  crouched,  their 
faces  hidden  upon  their  knees;  some  fallen  flat,  with 
arms  desperately  clutched  upon  some  broken  hope. 
Even  Magee  in  his  own  account  says,  "  The  scene  was 
one,  the  particulars  of  which  would  shock  the  least  deli- 
cate humanity." 

Of  those  who  lived,  most  were  insensible,  and  the 
captain,  wild  of  eye  and  stammering  of  speech,  only 
retained  his  senses  by  such  a  superhuman  effort  as 
changed  him  from  a  very  vigorous  young  man  to  stern 
middle  age. 

And  still  in  his  arms  he  held  the  boy,  close  wrapped, 
and  now  fast  asleep. 

"You'd  better  wake  little  Marchant,  gentlemen," 
were  the  first  words  he  spoke  to  the  rescue  crew,  and 
men  say  the  ghastly  smile  upon  his  face  was  as  awful  as 
any  sight  upon  that  quarter  deck. 

In  boats  on  the  ice,  and  then  upon  sledges  hastily 
nailed  together,  they  brought  them  all  ashore,  the  liv- 
ing to  the  houses  hospitably  thrown  open  upon  every 
hand,  —  for  when  was  Plymouth  less  than  eager  in 
her  hospitality  ?  —  and  the  dead  to  the  Town  Hall,  at 
the  foot  of  Burying  Hill,  where  all  the  doctors  in  the 
town,  and  there  were  several  in  those  days,  had  hastily 


A  PITEOUS  SIGHT, 


365 


assembled,  and  where  it  was  found  that  many  set  apart 
as  dead  still  showed  signs  of  life,  and  with  cruel  kind- 
ness were  revived. 

One  poor  fellow  named  Downs,  from  Barnstable,  left 
for  dead,  was  seen  to  move  an  eyelash,  and  being  laid 
in  a  trough  of  ice  water  revived,  but  in  such  torture 
•i  that  his  shrieks  were  heard  all  through  the  village. 
Even  so  the  blood  could  not  penetrate  his  feet,  and  both 
were  lost.  But  he  lived  to  be  an  old  man,  and  told  his 
story  to  children  and  children's  children. 

Tommy  Marchant  slept  for  two  days,  and  woke  up 
very  hungry  but  perfectly  well,  and  not  long  after  was 
sent  safely  to  his  mother,  who,  though  too  good  a  Prot- 
estant to  know  the  names  of  the  Saints,  canonized  James 
Magee. 

The  officers  and  those  of  the  men  who  had  friends  to 
claim  them  were  placed  in  coffins  for  removal  or  sepa- 
rate sepulture,  and  never  from  the  days  of  the  Pilgrims 
to  to-day  has  so  grewsome  a  sight  been  seen  in  Plym- 
outh as  when  those  distorted  bodies  were  anchored  in 
the  Town  Brook,  floating  there  until  the  cold  water 
should  straighten  them  for  the  grave.  The  others,  some 
sixty  unknown  men,  were  reverently  laid  together  in  a 
great  pit  at  the  southwestern  corner  of  Burying  Hill, 
and  years  after,  some  pitiful  soul,  not  of  their  kith  or 
kin,  raised  a  monument  over  them,  beside  which  you 
may  stand  and  in  the  twilight  of  the  sweet  summer  day 
picture  to  yourself  that  long-past  tragedy,  until  moving 
to  the  eastern  brow  of  the  hill  you  look  out  upon  the 
silvery  sparkle  of  White's  Flat  and  the  pretty  dancing 
ripples  of  the  Cow  Yard,  and  wonder  once  again  at  the 
unsympathy  of  Nature. 

Captain  Magee,  who  lived  some  years  and  made  sev 


I 


366    DR.  LeBARON  and  his  daughters. 


eral  voyages  after  this,  but  never  was  quite  himself 
again,  became  the  guest  of  S'uth'ard  Rowland,  and  the 
recipient  of  more  attention  and  more  delicate  cates  and 
more  questions  than  were  welcome  to  his  shattered  sys- 
tem. One  of  these  latter  we  may  understand  better  than 
he  did.  It  was  just  at  night  on  the  second  day  of  his 
stay,  the  day  before  the  Rev.  Chandler  Bobbins  and 
Parson  Hovey  were  to  say  the  funeral  service  over  the 
dead.  The  captain  was  for  the  moment  alone,  when  the 
door  softly  opened  to  admit  a  figure  so  pallid,  so  slight, 
so  noiseless,  that  he  almost  thought  it  a  ghost,  until  she 
softly  said :  — 

"  I  am  Mr.  Rowland's  sister.  Captain  Magee,  and  I 
much  wish  to  ask  you  a  question.  Did  a  man  named 
Ansel  Ring  sail  among  your  ship's  crew  ?  " 

"I  —  excuse  me,  madam,  but  I  am  easily  startled  in 
these  days.  Ansel  Ring?  No,  I  remember  no  such 
name,  and  although,  of  course,  I  could  not  know  all  my 
crew  so  soon,  I  surely  should  have  noted  such  a  name 
on  the  books.    Do  you  think  he  was  on  board  ?  " 

"  Yes  —  I  know  he  was.'* 
Well,  madam,  the  living  are  few  enough  to  be  easily 
numbered,  and  the  dead  were  all  recovered,  or  nearly 
all." 

I  must  search  among  that  fearful  company  in  the 
Town  Hall,  then  ? 

"No,  no,  it  is  no  sight  for  you  —  indeed,  my  dear 
young  lady,  it  is  no  sight  for  you." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,  and  good-night." 

The  next  day,  when  the  funeral  services  were  held, 
and  Chandler  Robbins  looked,  for  the  first  time,  upon 
the  forms  and  faces  of  those  sixty  unknown  men,  he 
fainted  in  the  extremity  of  his  pity  and  dismay.  All 


A  PITEOUS  SIGHT. 


867 


the  men  of  the  town  were  there,  and  a  few  women  ;  one, 
deeply  veiled  and  not  recognized,  looked  with  unflinch- 
ing eye  upon  a  sight  too  terrible  for  the  strong  men, 
and  finally  took  her  stand  beside  a  form  identified  by  no 
eyes  save  those  of  hopeless  love. 

All  was  over,  and  in  that  great  grave  beneath  the 
kindly  monument  Ansel  Ring  rests  in  peace,  himself 
and  his  story  alike  forgotten,  save  in  the  books  where 
all  things  are  recorded.^ 

^  The  *  *  Magee  Shipwreck ' '  occurred  exactly  as  here  narrated, 
and  a  monument  erected  to  the  memory  of  the  seventy-two  sea- 
men still  marks  the  resting-place  of  sixty  of  their  uumbo*  on 
Burying  Hill,  Plymouth,  Mass. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 


DEBORAH  FIRES  A  SALUTE  OF  HONOR. 

Again  the  Fathers  of  Plymouth  were  assembled  in 
the  Council  Chamber  at  the  Town  Hall  considering  the 
interests  of  their  townsmen  and  of  the  Colony ;  but  now 
they  called  themselves  the  Committee  of  Safety  instead 
of  Selectmen,  and  now,  more  than  formerly,  the  real 
power  of  government  was  vested  in  the  hands  of  a 
body  to  which  their  constituents  looked  with  confidence 
for  protection  against  not  only  the  powerful  enemy 
menacing  without,  but  the  enemy  within  their  own  bor- 
ders, the  men  with  whom  they  had  grown  up  in  friendly 
intercourse  and  brotherly  love,  but  who  to-day  stood 
ready  at  the  command  of  King  George  to  meet  them 
hand  to  hand  in  deadly  contest,  and  who  sneered  aloud 
at  all  which  the  patriots  held  most  sacred  and  most 
dear. 

Into  the  councils  of  this  responsible  body,  as  some 
fifteen  years  before  into  those  of  the  Selectmen,  and  as  a 
great  many  years  before  into  those  of  the  gods,  pene- 
trated a  woman  so  filled  with  the  importance  of  her  own 
business  as  to  easily  set  aside  those  masculine  delibera- 
tions which,  being  slow  and  methodical,  can  be  better 
interrupted  and  taken  up  again  than  the  intuitional 
processes  of  feminine  reason.    Yes,  I  said  reason. 

As  on  that  former  occasion,  James  Warren  filled  the 
Chair  and  guided  the  minds  of  his  colleagues,  although 


DEBORAH  FIRES  A  SALUTE  OF  HONOR.  369 

a  younger  man  than  the  one  of  fifteen  years  before ; 
for  James  Warren,  husband  of  Penelope  Winslow, 
lay  in  peace  upon  Burying  Hill  beside  his  haughty 
wife,  and  this  was  their  son,  Major-General  James 
Warren,  Chief  of  the  Massachusetts  Militia,  foremost 
among  the  patriots  of  the  Old  Colony,  and  husband 
of  that  Mercy  Otis  Warren  whose  History  of  the  Rev- 
olution and  correspondence  with  Adams  have  placed 
her  beside  S^vign^  and  Stael  and  Roland.  In  many 
respects,  however,  this  James  Warren  strongly  resem- 
bled his  father,  and  in  nothing  more  than  in  the  court- 
esy, the  gentlehood,  and  the  simplicity  of  their  mutual 
manners.  To  him  the  intruder  addressed  herself,  walk- 
ing calmly  up  to  the  table  and  standing  erect  beside  it, 
while  he  ceremoniously  rose  to  receive  the  comely  ma- 
tron, whose  presence  the  spirit  of  the  day  taught  him 
to  consider  an  unwelcome  intrusion. 

Good-morrow  to  you.  General  Warren,  and  to  you 
all,  gentlemen." 

"  Good-morrow  to  you,  Mrs.  Samson.  Will  you  be 
seated,  and  inform  us  — 

"  Nay,  I 've  no  time  for  ceremony,  and  to  inform 
you  of  my  errand  is  what  I 'm  here  for.  Captain  Sam- 
son has  been  exchanged,  and  is  on  his  way  home  in  a 
cartel  out  of  Halifax.  He  wrote  me  so  much  from 
Boston,  where  he  is  held  a  while  for  some  formalities, 
but  will  be  down  to-morrow,  wind  and  weather  permit- 
ting." 

"  Thank  you  very  much,  Mrs.  Samson,  for  your  at- 
tention in  bringing  us  this  news,  but  we  have  already 
received  it  by  an  official  communication  through  the 
post-office,"  replied  Warren  with  a  bow  as  of  dismissal, 
but  Deborah  held  her  ground. 


370  DR  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


"  And  what  notice  does  the  town  plan  to  take  of  Cap^ 
tain  Samson's  return  ?  "  asked  she,  quietly. 

"  Notice  ?  —  why  really  —  we  shall  all  of  course 
pay  our  respects,  madam,  and  —  yes  —  we  may,  I  think, 
offer  the  captain  a  dinner,  a  banquet  of  welcome  and 
congratulation  upon  his  gallant  and  noble  services.  Is 
not  that  our  mind,  gentlemen  ? 

Mui'murs  of  assent  rose  from  mouths  more  or  less 
sternly  closed  in  reprobation  of  a  woman's  presence 
among  them,  and  William  Watson  quietly  suggested :  — 

"  Perhaps  it  will  be  better  to  wait  until  Captain  Sam- 
son is  here,  and  make  our  arrangements  with  him.  It 
would  be  to  my  mind  more  seemly." 

"And  to  mine,"  added  Colonel  Theophilus  Cotton, 
briefly. 

"  A  moment,  gentlemen.  When  once  Captain  Sam- 
son is  at  home  he  will  take  his  place  as  master  of  his 
own  house  and  his  own  motions,  and  will  accept  or  de- 
cline your  dinners  and  your  banquets  as  he  chooses. 
But  my  errand  is  to  know  in  what  fashion  the  town 
means  to  welcome  her  naval  commander  and  defender 
so  soon  as  he  shall  appear  in  her  harbor.  To  my  mind, 
a  salute  of  twelve  guns  from  the  battery  on  Cole's  Hill, 
and  the  ringing  of  the  bells  and  flying  of  the  flags  for 
an  hour,  were  a  very  pretty  attention,  although  not 
enough.  If  the  militia  were  to  turn  out,  or  at  the  least 
Captain  Hammatt's  company,  with  the  band,  and  escort 
him  up  to  his  house,  it  would  be  better.  But  what  is 
your  own  plan,  gentlemen  ?  " 

The  members  of  the  Committee  looked  at  each  other 
with  the  puzzled  and  appealing  gaze  common  to  men 
who  find  themselves  suddenly  cornered  by  woman's  il- 
logical but  irresistible  deductions  from  premises  they 


DEBORAH  FIRES  A  SALUTE  OF  HONOR.  371 


have  not  yet  got  round  to  considering  after  their  own 
methods,  and  Warren,  looking  far  more  foolish  than 
he  ever  did  in  face  of  the  British,  replied  truthfully 
but  helplessly,  — 

"  We  had  not  thought  of  it,  Mrs.  Samson,  and  I  — 
I  don't  know  —  we  have  no  precedent  —  you  know, 
madam,  that  we  honor  and  value  Captain  Samson  quite 
as  much  as  you  can  "  —  But  an  irrepressible  smile  upon 
the  faces  of  some  of  his  colleagues  suggesting  to  the 
Chairman  that  the  Committee  of  Safety  could  hardly 
claim  the  devotion  of  a  wife  to  Captain  Samson,  he  hes- 
itated, cleared  his  throat,  and  finally  with  an  appealing 
look  around  him  remarked  :  "  I  suppose  we  had  better 
concert  some  action  such  as  —  such  as  is  suggested,  had 
we  not,  gentlemen  ?  " 

"We  probably  should  have,  without  interference," 
replied  Watson  severely,  if  mendaciously,  and  the  rest 
assented  more  or  less  positively.  Deborah's  bright 
dark  eyes  rested  attentively  upon  each  face,  and  a 
somewhat  triumphant  smile  just  passed  across  a  mouth 
a  trifle  too  resolute  for  feminine  beauty,  but  full  of 
promise  should  the  need  for  decisive  action  come. 

"  I  '11  leave  you  then,  sirs,  to  your  deliberations,  ask- 
ing pardon  that  I  should  have  interrupted  them,  since 
you  were  already  minded  to  do  as  I  wish  ;  but  should 
your  deputies  forget  or  neglect  to  obey  your  commands 
in  this  matter  of  the  salute,  I  live  close  beside  the  bat- 
tery, and  will  with  my  own  hands  fire  off  the  guns, 
yes,  and  find  the  powder  and  load  them,  too,  if  need  be. 
You  won't  forget  about  the  fliags,  General  Warren,  and 
the  joy-bells  ?  " 

"  We  will  arrange  everything,  madam,  in  the  man- 
ner most  fitting  to  do  honor  to  your  noble  husband." 


872    DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


"And  to  yourselves,  gentlemen.  Good-morning  to 
you  all." 

And  so  it  came  about  that  when  the  privateer 
schooner  Wasp  sailed  into  Plymouth  Harbor,  bringing 
Simeon  Samson  and  the  clock  he  had  carved  at  Fort 
Cumberland,  the  battery  on  Cole's  HiU  was  manned,  and 
among  the  rest  two  old  guns  from  the  Fort  upon  Bury- 
ing Hill,  which  Myles  Standish  had  fired  many  a  time 
and  oft,  and  loved  as  his  own  children,  roared  out  their 
hoarse  note  of  welcome  to  the  great-grandson  of  the 
veteran  as  he  came  home  in  honor,  wearing  the  sword 
that  Dawson  had  refused  to  receive,  and  with  his  tat- 
tered ensign  waving  above  his  head ;  for  England,  who 
loves  a  brave  and  audacious  man  even  as  did  her  maiden 
queen,  had  treated  her  foeman  in  this  case  as  might 
Sydney,  or  any  other  paladin  of  chivalry,  and  sent  him 
home  with  no  sign  of  defeat. 

Answering  to  the  war-worn  ensign  a  gorgeous  banner 
flew  to  the  top  of  the  staff  cresting  the  house  on  Middle 
Street,  and  Samson,  who  had  fixed  his  expectant  glass 
upon  that  roof,  cleared  his  throat  as  it  floated  joyously 
out  and  muttered :  "  God  bless  you.  Deb !  " 

But  it  was  all  too  much  for  Myles 's  guns.  Old  folks 
do  not  bear  much  excitement,  or  strong  emotion,  and 
before  the  last  salute  they  both  had  burst  their  hearts, 
and  never  spoke  again. 


CHAPTER  XL. 


MADAM  WINSLOW'S  ARMCHAIR. 

Successful  endeavor,  as  we  all  know,  brings  the 
opportunity  for  fresh  exertion,  and  Captain  Simeon 
Samson  had  hardly  eaten  the  dinner  and  modestly 
returned  thanks  for  the  ovation  proffered  him  by  his 
townsmen,  when  he  received  his  appointment  to  the 
brig  Hazard,  and  soon  after  to  the  Mercury,  a  ship 
built  for  Congress  by  Mr.  John  Peck,  grandson  of  that 
widow  Jackson  who  lived  in  the  Spooner  house  on 
North  Street,  and  kept  in  it  a  chocolate  shop  of  lasting 
fame.  Mr.  Peck's  shipyard  was  at  the  foot  of  Leyden 
Street,  and  is  now  covered  by  a  garden. 

Finally,  to  Deborah's  huge  satisfaction,  her  husband 
took  command  of  the  Mars,  the  Colony's  most  impor- 
tant war-vessel,  and  in  it  not  only  carried  dispatches 
and  envoys  to  Holland  and  France,  but  captured  some 
important  prizes,  among  others  the  British  flag-ship 
Trial. 

The  very  last  time  that  he  sailed  out  of  Plymouth 
as  commandant  of  a  war-ship,  he  met  with  one  of  those 
curious  coincidences  which  help  to  buttress  the  truism 
that  truth  is  stranger  than  fiction. 

Languidly  fanned  outside  the  Gurnet  by  a  dying 
breeze,  the  Mars  found  herself  within  hail  of  a  schooner 
laden  to  the  water's  edge,  and  carrying  a  very  singular 
appendage  over  her  stern  board  in  the  shape  of  a  huge 


874  DR.  lebaron  and  his  daughters. 


square  package  carefully  enveloped  in  oilcloth.  The 
stately  figure  of  a  gentleman  dressed  in  the  elaborate 
style  of  the  day  stood  motionless  upon  the  tiny  quarter 
deck,  while  sailors,  black  servants,  livestock,  and  many 
crates,  boxes,  and  barrels  sunk  the  schooner  almost  level 
with  the  water. 

"  The  late  Collector's  craft,  is  n't  it,  Dyer  ?  "  asked 
the  captain  in  a  low  voice  of  his  first  lieutenant,  as  they 
stood  at  the  head  of  the  companion-way. 

"  Yes,  Captain.  He 's  bound  off  for  good.  Got  a  per- 
mit from  the  Provincial  Government  to  remove  to  New 
York,  where  they  say  Governor  Clinton  has  given  him 
a  position  worth  £200  a  year,  with  fuel  and  rations." 

"Yes,  I  heard  it.  I  would  have  delayed  a  tide 
rather  than  run  foul  of  him,  feeling  as  he  must  feel  to- 
day. A  Winslow  running  away  from  Plymouth  Rock 
because  he  can't  breathe  the  air  of  Liberty  is  but  a 
sorry  sight." 

"Most  as  bad  as  a  Standish  turning  timid,"  said 
Dyer,  not  unwilling  to  flatter  his  commander. 

"  That 's  a  sight  never  seen  yet,  call  it  Standish  or 
Samson,"  replied  Samson,  with  the  simplicity  of  ac- 
knowledged heroism.  "  But  what  is  that  the  schooner 
carries  astern,  like  the  bag  of  a  honey-bee  ?  " 

"  Something  of  the  same  nature.  Captain,"  replied 
Dyer,  laughing  grimly,  "  for  it 's  the  provision  for  a 
rainy  day.  It 's  one  of  those  great  square  stuffed  arm- 
chairs women  love  to  cover  in  white  dimity  and  set  in 
the  spare  bedroom,  and  Madam  Winslow  thought  it 
would  be  a  tidy  place  to  store  away  her  silver  teapot 
and  such  like  matters,  so  she  ripped  off  the  cover,  pulled 
out  the  horsehair,  and  stuffed  the  back  and  sides  with 
pretty  much  all  the  silverware  and  trinkets  that  they  've 


MADAM  WINSLOW'S  ARMCHAIR.  375 


kept  through  all  their  troubles.  To  be  sure  they 've  a 
safe-conduct,  but  I  suppose  she  fancied  the  privateers 
might  not  respect  it,  so  "  — 

"And  did  she  take  you  into  her  confidence,  lieu- 
tenant, or  how  did  you  pick  up  this  wonderful  story  ?  " 

"  It  all  came  out  through  Betty  Kempton,  who  has 
for  years  done  Madam  Winslow's  extra  sewing  and 
odd  jobs,  and  so  being  called  upon  to  help  re-stuff  and 
re-cover  the  armchair,  she  knew  all  about  it.  She  swore 
by  all  that 's  holy  not  to  tell  the  secret,  but  you  know 
what  a  woman's  tongue  is,  Captain,  and  she  did  n't  sleep 
till  she 'd  sworn  three  others  to  secrecy,  and  one  of 
them  told  it  to  me,  advising  that  we  should  capture  the 
armchair  and  divide  the  booty." 

"  That  woman  ought  to  have  been  towed  out  of  port 
astern  of  the  stern-load,"  remarked  the  captain.  Do 
you  remember,  Dyer,  that  it  was  on  the  first  day  of  our 
first  cruise  in  the  Independence  we  spoke  this  same 
craft  ?  The  old  wives  would  say  't  is  an  omen  this  will 
be  our  last  cruise." 

And  the  captain  laughed  scornfully,  and  yet  with  a 
latent  thrill  of  that  superstition  somehow  engendered  by 
the  sea. 

"  I  wish  she  had  got  away  instead  of  lying  by  to 
cross  our  course,"  replied  Dyer,  in  the  same  tone. 
•'Shall  I  hail?" 

"  Yes,  hail  —  no,  give  me  the  trumpet.  I  want  to 
show  all  the  consideration  we  can  to  the  old  man." 

"  Ahoy !    What  schooner  is  that  ?  " 

"  The  King's  Own,  bound  for  His  Majesty's  loyal 
town  of  New  York.  If  you  are  a  naval  commander 
belonging  to  any  honorable  nation,  I  warn  you  that 
Plymouth,  the  port  we  have  just  left,  is  filled  with  a 


876   DR,  LeBARON  and  his  DAUGHTERS. 


swarm  of  cowardly  rebels  to  King  George  of  England, 
whose  company  loyal  citizens  must  escape,  although  they 
leave  all  behind  them." 

This  is  the  ship-of-war  Mars,  belonging  to  the  Pro- 
vincial Government,  and  is  bound  to  protect  all  loyal 
citizens,  especially  if  they  sail  under  safe-conduct  from 
the  sovereigns  of  this  country.  A  good  voyage  to  you, 
sir,  and  a  safe  arrival." 

And  with  a  wind  that  caught  her  lofty  royals,  but 
refused  to  notice  the  schooner's  lowlier  canvas,  the 
stately  ship  swept  on,  carrying  Simeon  Samson  and 
Dyer  upon  their  last  cruise. 

"  Eight  bells,  sir." 

"  Make  it  so,  and  pipe  the  men  to  dinner." 

Eight  bells  it  was  in  Kingston  woods  that  day,  when 
Mary  Clark,  wife  of  Beniah,  and  mistress  of  his  little 
farm,  his  rude  cabin,  and  his  horde  of  tow-headed  chil- 
dren, glanced  at  the  noon  mark  upon  the  floor,  and  seiz- 
ing a  tin  horn  went  to  the  door  to  summon  her  family 
to  dinner.  But  with  the  horn  half  way  to  her  lips  she 
paused,  staring  in  amazement  at  a  figure  resting  against 
one  of  the  first  trees  in  the  wood-road  leading  from  the 
cabin  to  the  highway.  It  was  that  of  a  tall  and  slight 
young  man,  apparently  very  much  fatigued,  and  yet 
irresolute  as  to  pausing.  A  stranger  of  any  sort  was 
a  rare  and  refreshing  sight  to  Mary's  eyes,  but  this 
stranger  was  also  young,  good-looking,  weary,  and  de- 
pressed, and  the  heart  of  the  woman  went  out  to  him 
so  genially  that,  dropping  the  hand  holding  the  horn, 
she  stepped  down  upon  the  tm^f,  and  moving  slowly  to- 
ward him  smiled  graciously,  saying,  — 

"  Good-day,  young  man.  Was  you  a-coming  to  our 
house  ?  " 


MADAM  WINSLOW'S  ARMCHAIR.  377 


Thus  invited,  the  stranger  approached,  critically  ex- 
amining the  speaker  out  of  a  pair  of  keen  hazel  eyes, 
but  seeing  nothing  more  alarming  than  a  gaunt,  yellow, 
middle-aged  woman,  with  hay-colored  hair  done  up  in 
a  tight  knot,  and  a  smiling  toothless  mouth,  he  removed 
the  cap  from  his  curly  brown  locks,  and  bowing  politely, 
said :  — 

Good-morning,  madam  !  I  am  on  my  way  to  Plym- 
outh, and  have  missed  my  way  in  the  woods.  Can 
you  tell  me  how  to  strike  the  highway  from  here  ?  " 

"  Plymouth !  Why,  I  don't  seem  to  remember  see- 
ing you  down  to  Plymouth.   Do  your  folks  live  there  ?  " 

"  No  —  I 'm  going  to  engage  as  a  sailor." 

"  You  don't  say  !  Why  you  don't  look  very  rugged 
young  man,  and  I 'm  most  afraid  it  '11  be  too  much  fop 
you.    Was  your  folks  willing  to  let  you  go  ?  " 

"  They  don't  know  it  yet.  I  am  going  to  write  as 
soon  as  I  know  where  I  shall  be.  I  am  going  to  ship 
aboard  the  Mars,  Captain  Simeon  Samson's  new  ship." 

"  Well,  now,  you  don't  say !  I  declare  for 't,  I 'm 
'f raid  you  won't  stand  it "  — 

"  Will  you  please  tell  me  the  road  to  Plymouth  ?  " 

"  Good  land,  you  can't  go  no  further  before  dinner. 
There,  I  most  forgot  the  vittles  is  cooling  on  the  table." 

And  raising  the  horn,  Mrs.  Clark  blew  a  peal  loud 
and  long,  resulting  almost  immediately  in  a  descent 
from  all  directions  of  the  tow-headed  children,  and 
among  them  a  slow  and  lumbering  man,  whom  the  host- 
ess called  he,"  and  who  welcomed  the  stranger  with 
that  slow  and  grave  hospitality  habitual  to  men  living 
much  apart  from  their  kind* 

"  There,  set  up  and  eat,  —  set  up,  Mr*  —  what  name 
shall  I  call  you?" 


378  DR,  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


"  My  name  is  Robert,  —  Robert  ShurtlifEe,  madam." 

"Shurtliffe  —  well,  there  was  Shurtliffes  over  Mid- 
dleboro'  way  —  Jim,  you  keep  your  spoon  out  o'  the 
vittles  till  your  pa  and  the  stranger 's  got  some.  Sail 
right  in,  Robert,  and  get  your  share." 

So  adjured,  the  stranger,  drawing  his  stool  close  to 
the  table,  took  one  of  the  horn  spoons  laid  ready,  and 
joined  without  ceremony  in  the  attack  upon  a  mountain 
of  string  beans,  interspersed  with  bits  of  salt  pork  cut 
into  mouthf uls,  and  forming  the  dainty  bits  of  the  feast. 
Beans  and  pork  were  heaped  in  a  large  wooden  bowl, 
set  in  the  middle  of  the  table,  and  neither  plates,  knives, 
forks,  nor  other  conveniences  of  the  table  were  visi- 
ble. A  stone  pitcher  of  cider  with  a  pewter  mug  stood 
at  one  end  of  the  table,  and  a  wooden  trencher  with 
some  pieces  of  rye-and-indian  bread  at  the  other ;  and 
such  as  it  was,  the  meal  was  a  feast,  for  string  beans 
were  not  always  to  be  had,  and  dried  ones  were  no 
rarity. 

Robert  Shurtliffe,  however,  had  often  eaten  as  rude  a 
meal,  for  this  was  the  ordinary  style  of  dining  among  the 
poorer  classes  of  his  day,  especially  in  rural  districts,  and 
as  he  was  very  hungry,  he  secured  his  share  of  the  beans 
and  the  bits  of  pork  which,  but  for  their  mother's  vigi- 
lance, would  all  have  been  gobbled  by  the  children,  and 
finishing  with  a  hunch  of  the  brown  bread  and  a  good 
draught  of  cider,  declared  himself  so  refreshed  as  to  be 
again  ready  for  the  road. 

"  Well,  now,  you  hold  on  a  minute.  Bob,"  exclaimed 
the  hostess,  as  this  resolution  was  declared.  "  Father, 
be  you  going  to  use  the  horse  this  afternoon  ?  You 
know  I  was  talking  some  of  going  down  to  trade  my 
yarn  for  sugar  and  stuff,  and  I 'd  jest  as  lief  take  this 


MADAM  WINSLOW'S  ARMCHAIR.  379 


feller  along,  and  Johnny,  he  can  trot  down  afoot,  and 
come  home  with  me/' 

"  Dunno  *bout  lettin*  you  go  off  with  such  a  smart 
young  chap  all  alone,*'  replied  the  husband,  with  a  slow 
grin  of  rustic  humor.  "He  might  steal  you  and  the 
horsre  too,  and  I  should  miss  the  horse  consid'able  !  " 

When  was  a  woman  too  gaunt,  too  labor-worn,  or  too 
toothless  to  refuse  an  implied  confession  of  her  power 
over  the  other  sex  ?  And  Mrs.  Clark  washed  herself  with 
soft  soap,  combed  and  flattened  her  sparse  hay-colored 
hair,  and  donned  her  linseywoolsey  gown,  her  buckled 
shoes,  and  her  green  silk  calash,  with  a  happy  simper 
upon  her  toothless  mouth  that  went  far  to  revive  its  origi- 
nal comeliness. 

Dobbin,  astonished  at  some  vague  attempt  to  cleanse 
and  smooth  his  ragged  pelt,  was  brought  to  the  door,  a 
pillion  attached  to  the  back  of  the  saddle,  and  with  the 
happy  simper  expanded  to  a  blithesome  grin,  Mary  Clark 
was  swung  to  her  seat  by  her  husband's  stalwart  arm, 
and  immediately  folded  her  own  around  the  waist  of  the 
gallant  young  cavalier  already  in  the  saddle. 

"  There,  don't  hug  the  fellow  too  hard,  old  woman  ! 
exclaimed  the  farmer,  with  a  hoarse  laugh  and  a  sugges- 
tive smack  upon  Dobbin's  flank  that  left  its  impress  in 
dust  upon  that  worthy  animal's  hair,  and  induced  him 
to  move  stiffly  toward  the  road,  where  he  presently  was 
urged  into  a  heart-breaking  trot,  not  so  rapid  but  that 
Johnny  easily  kept  up  with  him,  the  boy's  little  brown 
feet  patting  luxuriously  along  in  the  soft  dust,  in  gentle 
harmony  with  the  thud  of  Dobbin's  heavy  hoofs. 

"  Want  to  go  to  Cap'n  Samson's,  do  ye  ?  "  asked  the 
modern  Dejanira  as  her  cavalier  made  known  his  des- 
tination.   "  Well,  that 's  right  down  King  Street,  that 


880  DR.  LeBARON  and  EIS  DAUGHTERS. 


they  're  trying  to  remember  to  call  Middle  Street  since 
we  're  off  with  the  king  and  the  tea-tax.  There,  right 
down  North  Street  here,  and  round  Cole's  Hill ;  the 
Cap'n  lives  last  house  on  Middle  Street,  to'rst  the  hill, 
where  he  can  glimp  the  harbor  as  often  as  he 's  a  mind 
ter.  There,  here  we  be,  and  that's  the  house,  and 
that 's  Mrs.  Samson  up  a-top  the  ruff,  a-haulin'  down 
her  flag.  Well,  Bob,  I 'm  real  glad  to  have  met  you, 
and  I've  enjoyed  my  ride  firstrate.  Good-by,  and 
thank  you  kindly  for  your  company,  and  I  '11  not  forget 
you  in  a  hurry.    Jump  up,  Johnny." 

"  And,  Johnny,  here 's  a  sixpence  for  you  to  buy  some 
nuts  or  figs,  if  you  like ;  and,  Mrs.  Clark,  will  you  take 
this  ribbon  that  I  chanced  to  have  in  my  pocket,  and 
make  a  breastknot  of  it  to  wear  in  memory  of  the  poor 
sailor  lad  you  treated  so  kindly,  and  who  won't  forget 
you  ?    No,  no,  no  thanks.    Good-by,  madam,  good-by." 


CHAPTER  XLL 


A  QUILTING  BEE  AND  A  SING. 

The  house  door  stood  wide  open,  as  house  doors  in 
Plymouth  always  did  in  the  good  old  times,  and  Robert 
Shurtliffe,  wishing  to  escape  from  the  somewhat  effusive 
thanks  of  his  late  hostess,  walked  in  somewhat  hurriedly, 
and  gravitating  by  instinct  toward  the  kitchen,  entered, 
looked  about,  and  attracted  by  the  open  window,  crossed 
toward  it,  and  stood  looking  out  at  the  glowing  flower- 
beds, until  a  quick  yet  decided  footstep  came  hurriedly 
down  the  stairs,  only  divided  by  a  bulk-head  from  the 
kitchen,  and  Deborah  Samson  paused  upon  the  lowest 
step  to  stare  in  astonishment  at  the  tall  stripling,  who  in 
some  confusion  turned  and  bowed. 

"  Why,  who  is  this  !  "  exclaimed  she,  slowly  stepping 
off  the  stair. 

"  I  have  come  to  see  Captain  Samson,  madam.  You 
are  no  doubt  his  wife." 

Yes,  and  I  have  but  now  lost  sight  of  the  topsail  of 
the  Mars,  as  she  took  my  husband  out  to  sea." 

"  Sailed !    Has  the  captain  sailed  ?  " 

"  He  has,  young  man  ;  sailed  just  before  noon  to-day." 

"  Oh,  the  luck  of  it,  the  luck  of  it !  "  And  the  young 
fellow  strode  up  and  down  the  room,  clenching  his  fists 
and  grinding  his  teeth,  but  not  swearing. 

"  Why  are  you  so  put  about  ?  What  was  your  busi- 
ness with  Captain  Samson?"  demanded  Deborah,  in 
astonishment. 


I 


382  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


"  Why,  I  Ve  traveled  fifty  mile  to  sail  with  him.  I 'm 
bound  to  fight  the  British,  and  of  all  commanders  that 
step  I 'd  rather  sail  and  fight  under  Samson  than  any 
other/' 

"  And  you  're  right,  my  lad,  if  hard  knocks  are  what 
you  're  lookmg  for.  There 's  fighting  to  be  had  by 
those  who  sail  under  Simeon  Samson's  flag,"  replied  the 
wife,  proudly,  and  then  she  added  in  a  gentler  tone : 
"  Indeed,  I 'm  sorry  for  you,  young  man,  for  you 've 
missed  a  rare  chance.  The  Mars  is  the  Colony's  best 
ship  and  Samson 's  not  its  worst  commandant,  so  you  '11 
hardly  find  another  voyage  to  your  mind  after  losing 
that.    Do  you  come  from  far  ?  " 

"  Bridgewater  way,"  replied  the  youth,  briefly.  "  I 
suppose  my  best  plan  now  will  be  to  get  a  passage  up  to 
Boston,  and  ship  from  there." 

"  Why,  yes,  I  suppose  so,  but  for  to-night  you 'd  better 
stop  here.  I  won't  say  in  my  house,  because  of  the 
speech  o'  people,  and  Plymouth  women's  tongues  are 
hung  in  the  middle,  so  that  both  ends  can  wag ;  but 
S'uth'ard  Rowland  will  put  you  up  for  nothing  if  you  're 
a  soldier  or  a  sailor  on  the  right  side,  and  I  '11  give  you 
your  supper  and  breakfast,  or,  if  you  like  it  better,  I  '11 
take  you  along  with  me  to  a  supper  and  a  sing  and 
maybe  a  dance  over  T'other  Side.  They 've  had  a 
quilting  bee  this  afternoon  and  I  was  to  go,  but  so  long 
as  the  sky-scraper  of  the  Mars  was  above  the  horizon, 
my  flag  and  I  held  our  post  a-top  of  the  house.  But 
now  he 's  gone,  and  I  feel  more  than  a  bit  lonesome,  I 
thought  I 'd  step  over,  —  I  love  to  hear  the  folks  talk 
about  the  cap'n,  and  that 's  a  fact." 

A  flush  of  pride  overspread  the  comely  face  of  the 
captain's  wife,  and  the  guest  impulsively  cried :  — 


A  QUILTING  BEE  AND  A  SING.  383 


*^  To  belong  to  such  a  man  as  that  is  better  than  to  be 
a  man  yourself." 

"  I  don't  believe  a  man  ever  thought  that  way  be- 
fore," replied  Deborah,  laughing  a  little  shamefacedly* 
"  Well,  will  you  take  up  with  my  offer,  —  and  what 
name  may  I  call  you,  young  man  ?  " 

"Robert  Shurtliffe,  at  your  service,  madam,  and  I 
shall  be  very  thankful  to  go  with  you  to  the  dance,  for 
I  love  it  amazingly." 

Oh,  the  dance  —  well,  I  was  not  lapng  out  to  stop 
for  that.  Now  my  husband 's  gone,  it  behooves  me  to 
be  more  than  prudent,  and  truth  to  tell,  when  your 
heart 's  away  your  feet  are  shod  with  lead.  But  I  ad- 
mire to  hear  'em  sing  over  there ;  they  reel  off  those 
old  fuguing  tunes  as  easy  as  I 'd  reel  off  a  skein  of  yarn. 
There 's  Jesse  Churchill,  and  Andrew  Crosswell,  and 
Sam  Sherman,  and  Billy  Bartlett,  that  lead  the  sing- 
ing in  meeting  since  we  Ve  concluded 't  ain't  wicked  to 
praise  the  Lord  in  tune,  'stead  o'  braying  at  Him  like 
dumb  cattle  or  jackasses,  and  then  there 's  a  lot  o'  the 
folks  come  in  on  a  chorus ;  and  I  do  feel  as  if  it  would 
be  sort  of  comforting  to  me  to-night  to  hear  how 

*  On  cherub  and  on  cherubim, 
Full  royally  He  rode  ; 
And  on  the  wings  of  mighty  winds 
Came  flying  all  abroad.' 

It 's  good  hearing  for  a  sailor's  wife  that  there 's  One 
in  the  winds  that  can  furl  'em  as  easy  as  a  good  crew 
can  furl  a  tops'l  in  fair  weather." 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  visitor,  softly,  so  softly  that  Debo- 
rah looked  keenly  at  him,  and  said  :  — 

"  You 've  a  tender  heart  as  yet,  my  lad,  and  you  '11  be 
none  the  worse  a  sailor  or  a  fighter  for  it.    My  Sim 's 


S84  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


as  tender  as  a  woman  when  he 's  o'  mind  to  he.  But 
there  —  what  did  you  call  your  name  ?  " 
"  Robert  Shurtliffe,  mistress." 

"  Why  —  it  seems  as  if  I 'd  heard  that  name  — 
Robert  ShurtlifFe,  Shurtliffe,  —  Shurtliffe  ?  Yes,  I  Ve 
heard  it  sure." 

"  'T  is  a  common  name  enough  in  some  parts  of  the 
country.  May  I  wash  and  brush  some  of  this  dust 
away  before  we  go  to  the  da  —  the  sing  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed.  Step  right  out  in  the  back  kitchen. 
Here 's  water  and  soap,  and  there 's  a  bunch  o'  broom  for 
your  clothes,  and  you  can  button  the  door  if  you 've  a 
mind,  though  there 's  nobody  in  the  house  but  me,  for 
the  children  are  all  away  till  bedtime,  I  could  n't  bear 
having  them  under  foot  while  I  was  seeing  their  father 
off,  so  he  kissed  'em  good-by  as  soon  as  the  breakfast 
dishes  were  done  up,  and  then  Lydia,  that 's  my  oldest 
girl,  took  little  Patty  and  went  over  to  the  Goodwins'  to 
spend  the  day,  —  Lydia 's  a  good  girl  and  I  shall  miss 
her  terribly  when  she  marries  Billy  Goodwin,  and  I  sup- 
pose it  will  be  before  her  father  comes  home,  —  and 
Deb  and  the  boys  went  over  to  Ponds  to  spend  the 
day  and  night  with  Dominicus  Hovey's  young  folks,  son 
of  old  Parson  Hovey  that  you  may  have  heard  of  ;  — 
but  there,  go  and  have  your  wash,  and  I  '11  step  into  the 
bedroom  and  get  ready.  Strange  how  that  name,  Rob- 
ert Shurtliffe,  runs  in  my  brain." 

The  guest  smiled  but  said  nothing,  and  a  little  later 
hostess  and  guest  set  forth  upon  their  long  walk,  Mrs. 
Samson  latching  the  house  door  as  she  came  out,  with 
the  remark,  — 

"  Seems  kind  of  unfriendly  to  shut  the  door,  but  dogs 
and  cats  will  stray  in  if  I  leave  it  open.    Lyddy  '11  be 


A  QUILTING  BEE  AND  A  SING, 


385 


along  pretty  soon  to  put  Patty  to  bed,  and  I  think  like 
enough  Billy  '11  come  along  to  keep  her  company  till  I 
get  home." 

"  Is  Billy  Goodwin  grandson  of  the  old  French  doc- 
tor ?  I  heard  that  his  daughter  married  a  Goodwin," 
said  Shurtliffe. 

"  Well,  the  *  French  doctor  '  was  the  old  original  Dr. 
LeBaron,  dead  and  gone  these  many  years.  He  had  a 
son,  Dr,  Lazarus  LeBaron,  that  is  the  one  you  mean,  I 
guess,  and  he  had  a  daughter,  Lyddy,  who  married  Nat 
Goodwin,  and  Billy  is  their  son,  and  grandson  of  Dr. 
Lazarus,  you  see." 

"  Dr.  Lazarus  and  one  of  his  daughters,  but  not  that 
one,  used  to  come  over  to  Plympton  to  see  some  folks 
I  knew  when  I  was  a  little  boy,"  said  Shurtliffe,  and 
his  hostess  eyed  him  attentively  by  the  failing  summer 
twilight  as  she  asked :  — 

"  Folks  by  the  name  of  Shurtliffe  ?  " 
No,  it  was  —  why,  now  I  think  of  it,  't  was  the  same 
name  as  yours,  the  name  of  Samson." 

"  Yes,  the  widow  of  Jonathan  Samson,"  replied  Deb- 
orah, quietly.  "  They  were  cousins  of  my  husband,  and 
I  know  all  about  them.  Jonathan  was  wronged  out  of 
the  property  left  him  by  his  father,  but  while  he  was 
away  his  sister's  husband  got  hold  of  it  and  never  let  it 
go  again.  So  Jonathan  ran  away  from  his  troubles, 
and  his  wife  broke  down  under  them,  and  had  to  put 
her  children  out.  There  were  two  boys  and  a  girl,  but 
what  were  their  names  now  ?  Seems  to  me  the  girl  was 
named  Deborah,  like  me  "  — 

"  The  Samsons  have  never  been  a  very  lucky  family," 
interrupted  Robert  Shurtliffe,  rather  abruptly.  "  Did 
you  ever  hear  of  uncle  Jedediah,  that  is  he 'd  be  your 


886  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


husband's  uncle  Jedediah,  who  had  a  farm  that  come  to 
him  from  his  own  father,  and  was  living  on  it  there  in 
Plympton,  when  along  came  Consider  Howland,  and 
said  that  land  was  entailed  on  him  by  his  fathei, 
Thomas  Howland,  and  the  law  was  with  him  and  he 
took  it,  leaving  poor  uncle  Jed  homeless  ?  " 

"  Yes,  the  Howlands  love  land,  and  don't  love  to  let 
go  of  it.  You  seem  to  take  a  good  deal  of  interest  in 
the  Samsons,  young  man." 

"  Well,  yes,  I  knew  them  pretty  well.  I  guess  that 's 
the  house  we  're  going  to,  is  n't  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  looks  like  they  had  a  good  many  folks  there 
already,  but  I  imagine  there  '11  be  room  for  us.  Come 
in  this  way.    Here 's  Mrs.  Churchill,  now." 

"  Well,  there,  Deborah,  I 'm  dreadful  glad  to  see  you. 
We  began  to  be  afraid  you  wa'n't  coming ;  and  this  is  a 
friend  of  yours  ?  " 

Yes,  a  cousin  of  ours  come  to  sail  with  the  captain, 
but  got  here  a  little  too  late,"  replied  Deborah  with  a 
keen  side-glance.  "Robert  Shurtliffe,  he  calls  himself, 
and,  Robert,  this  is  Mrs.  Churchill." 

"  Very  glad  to  see  you,  sir,  and  much  obliged  to  Mrs. 
Samson  for  bringing  you.  There  '11  be  some  dancing 
after  a  while,  and  the  girls  will  be  pleased  enough  to 
have  such  a  fine  new  beau." 

"  I  will  do  my  best  to  foot  a  reel  or  so,  madam, 
though  I 'm  afraid  a  poor  country  bumpkin  like  me  will 
cut  a  poor  figger  among  such  genteel  young  ladies  as  I 
see  here." 

Now '  beau,'  and  '  figger,'  and  '  genteel,'  were  touches 
of  elegant  verbiage  in  those  days,  and  this  little  colloquy 
partook  of  "  Shakespeare  and  the  musical  glasses,"  quite 
as  much  as  an  esthetic  discourse  upon  hypnotism  or 
Browning  would  to-day. 


A  QUILTING  BEE  AND  A  SING. 


387 


"  Come  out  and  have  some  supper  first  of  all,"  pur- 
sued the  hostess,  her  jolly  sides  shaking  with  comfort- 
able laughter.  "  They  're  just  setting  down,  and  you 
shall  have  a  place  next  the  prettiest  girl  in  the  room, 
Mr.  Bumpkin,  as  you  call  yourself." 

And  with  a  little  elbowing,  a  little  joking,  and  an 
illustration  of  the  sporting  maxim  that  "  weight  tells," 
Mrs.  Churchill  made  a  passage  through  the  merry 
crowd,  and  ushered  her  guests  into  a  delightful  kitchen 
extending  across  the  whole  rear  of  the  farmhouse,  its 
eastern  side  pierced  with  four  wide  and  low  casements, 
opening  upon  the  sea  and  Manomet,  and  its  western, 
with  two  huge  cavernous  stone  fireplaces,  each  provided 
with  a  "  mantle-tr'e  "  full  of  candlesticks  and  such  mat- 
ters, with  a  brick  oven,  and  with  full  sets  of  andirons, 
fire-irons,  cranes,  pot-hooks  and  trammels,  benches  within 
the  fireplace,  and  great  oaken  settles  beside  them.  At 
either  end  of  the  hall-like  room  rose  a  great  dresser,  its 
shelves  glittering  with  pewter  and  delf ;  and  two  doors 
opened  into  two  pantries  replete  with  dainties. 

Time  had  been,  in  the  bygone  days,  when  a  partition 
dividing  the  two  fireplaces  and  the  four  casements  had 
secured  a  separate  domain  to  each  of  the  wives  of  two 
brothers  then  owning  the  house ;  but  now,  brothers  and 
wives  had  every  one  obtained  a  still  more  personal  and 
secluded  dwelling  place,  and  the  heirs,  becoming  one 
family,  had  thrown  down  the  partition  and  secured  to 
themselves  an  ideal  kitchen  for  such  an  occasion  as  the 
present. 

An  improvised  table  running  down  the  centre  of  the 
room  creaked  and  groaned  dismally  beneath  the  weight 
of  such  a  feast  as  the  weaklings  of  to-day  could  neither 
provide  nor  consume,  many  of  whose  dishes  are  now 


388  DK  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


obsolete,  and  many  more  only  to  be  thought  of  with  a 
dyspeptic  shudder,  as  for  instance  the  two  little  roast 
pigs  couchant  in  two  big  pewter  platters  at  either  end 
of  the  table,  the  one  with  an  ear  of  corn  in  his  mouth, 
the  other  with  a  big  red  apple.  Between  these  were  a 
mighty  home-cured  ham,  a  mountain  of  brawn,  a  pig's- 
head  cheese,  composed  of  the  gelatinous  portions  of  the 
pork,  chopped  fine,  seasoned  highly  with  spices  and 
herbs,  and  then  hardened  in  a  shape  of  quivering  jelly, 
ornamented  with  thin  rings  of  beets  and  carrots,  orange 
peel,  and  sprigs  of  parsley.  Besides  these  adaptations 
of  "the  friend  of  man,"  there  was  a  round  of  beef 
^la-mode,  and  a  pair  of  those  tongues  which  our  ances- 
tors never  failed  to  remind  their  guests  "  never  told  a 
lie ; "  then  there  were  platters  of  hot  "  simballs,"  pies 
like  the  daisies  in  a  June  meadow,  a  stalwart  cheese, 
short-cakes,  buttered  toast,  and  lighter  matters  without 
count.  Around  this  abundant  board  the  guests  were 
seated  in  relays,  the  older  and  more  honorable  having 
the  first  places,  and  among  these  Mrs.  Samson  soon 
found  a  chair,  while  the  hostess,  leading  her  younger 
guest  to  a  group  of  merry  girls,  plucked  the  prettiest 
by  the  sleeve,  saying :  — 

"  Here,  Hetty,  this  is  a  young  gentleman  who  is  going 
to  fight  the  British  for  us  —  Mr.  Robert  Shurtliffe,  a 
cousin  of  Captain  Samson's.  Make  much  of  him,  and 
see  that  he  gets  some  supper.  My  daughter  Hetty,  Mr. 
ShurtMe." 

Thus  launched,  we  may  be  sure  that  our  handsome 
recruit  responded  to  the  challenge,  and  made  himself 
amazingly  popular  with  the  girls,  while  the  young  men 
soon  regarded  him  with  scowling  envy. 

The  last  detachment  of  the  young  people  was  still 


A  QUILTING  BEE  AND  A  SING, 


389 


at  supper,  when  from  the  "  fore-room  "  arose  the  wail 
of  a  violin,  the  guttural  complaint  of  a  bass-viol,  and 
the  sharp  remonstrance  of  a  pitch-pipe,  to  which,  after 
many  efforts,  the  stringed  instruments  adapted  them- 
selves, and  the  whole  sounded  a  chord  of  satisfied  har- 
mony. 

"  Parson  Robbins  has  come,  and  had  his  supper,  and 
now  the  sing  is  beginning,  Robert  Shurtliffe,*'  announced 
pretty  Hetty  to  her  guest.  "  Had  you  rather  go  in  and 
listen,  or  stay  here,  and  when  we 've  cleared  away  the 
tables  play  Forfeits,  and  Pope  Joan,  and  Ring-around-a- 
Rosy,  and  may  be  Kiss-in-the-Ring  ?  " 

"I'd  rather  play  Kiss-in-the-Ring  with  you,  Miss 
Hetty,  than  do  anything  else  I  can  think  of,"  replied 
the  sailor,  and  black-eyed  Sally  Dunham  exclaimed :  — 

"  There,  you 've  got  your  answer  now,  Hetty,  and  I 
hope  you  're  satisfied." 

"You're  not  satisfied  because  he  didn't  say  you," 
cried  Sally's  brother,  with  a  loud  guffaw,  and,  thus  art- 
lessly expressing  the  very  same  passions  and  sentiments 
which  are  more  or  less  artfully  concealed  in  the  politest 
circles  of  to-day,  those  young  people  enjoyed  themselves 
mightily,  and  felt  that  the  world  and  its  history  began 
and  ended  in  their  own  experience. 

Deborah  Samson,  ensconced  in  the  darkest  corner  of 
the  fore-room,  and  almost  hidden  by  the  portly  figure 
of  Mrs.  Betsey  Crombie  in  a  big  armchair,  allowed  her- 
self the  rare  indulgence  of  self-surrender  to  emotion, 
and  closing  her  eyes  pictured  a  great  vessel  plunging 
on  through  the  darkness  into  unknown  spaces,  the  hiss- 
ing brine  thrown  into  angry  furrows  by  her  sharp 
prow,  and  a  foaming  wake  stretching  behind,  back, 
back  even  to  Plymouth  Harbor,  a  bridge  whereon  true 


390    DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 

hearts  might  send  messages  of  faithful  love  across 
leagues  of  silent  sea.  The  pungent  smell  of  the  mak- 
ing tide  came  floating  in  at  the  open  windows,  and  the 
sound  of  the  surf  upon  "  the  back  o'  the  beach  "  smote 
in  grand  diapason  through  the  stringed  harmony  of  the 
instruments.  Deborah  closed  her  eyes,  and  from  be- 
neath the  lids  great  tears  welled  out,  and  ran  unheeded 
down  her  cheeks.  Not  three  such  hours  came  to  that 
long  life  of  activity,  struggle,  and  aggressive  warfare, 
but  when  they  came,  they  made  an  impression  beneath 
which  Laura  Matilda,  weeping  daily  over  her  rose-water 
laovel,  would  be  crushed  into  nothingness. 

"  Oh,  shepherds,  have  you  seen 
My  Flo-oh-ra  pah-ah-as  this  way  ? 

inquired  the  choristers  in  mellow  and  well-tuned  voices 
of  the  audience,  and  then  the  summons  to  follow  the 

"  Merrymerrymerry  mer-er-ery  horn" 
was  sounded  loud  and  long,  and  then  came  a  new  song 
of  Dibdin's,  with  a  chorus  to  which  the  parson  did  not 
disdain  to  add  his  own  harmonious  and  well-trained 
voice.  And  then,  breaking  upon  the  sweet  reverie  of 
the  sailor's  wife,  came  a  grand  burst  of  concerted  mel- 
ody, the  fugue  for  which  she  had  made  petition  of  Jesse 
Churchill  before  hiding  herself. 

"  The  Lord  descended  from  above 
chanted  the  four  men's  voices  in  perfect  harmony;  and 
then  the  sweet  tenor  alone  told  how  — 

**  On  cherub  and  on  cherubim, 

On  cher-r-rub  and  on  cher-r-rubim, 
Full  royally  He  rode ;  " 

and  then  the  basso  declared  — 

And  on  the  wings  of  mighty  winds 
Came  flying  fly-igh-ing  all  abroad." 


A  QUILTING  BEE  AND  A  SING. 


391 


And  now  came  in  the  fugue,  where  every  part  caught  up 
the  melody,  toyed  with  it,  flung  it  to  another,  chased 
each  the  other  like  lambs  at  play,  insisted  each  upon  its 
own  independence,  yet  in  the  end  embraced  each  other 
in  loving  accord  and  finished  with  a  grand  burst  of  con- 
certed harmony  that  rolled  out  triumphantly  to  crown 
old  ocean's  Benedicite  omnia  opera  Domini,  and  the 
night  wind,  and  the  soft  breath  of  flowers,  and  the 
song  of  the  stars  in  their  courses,  that  Music  of  the 
Spheres,  which  Stanleys  of  the  world  of  science  tell  us 
undoubtedly  surrounds  us,  but  which  our  senses  are 
too  limited  to  apprehend. 

So  glorious  and  stirring  were  the  last  notes  that  Deb- 
orah roused  herself,  and  peeping  out  from  behind  her 
screen  printed  upon  her  memory  a  picture  that  always 
recurred  with  the  deeper  sentiments  of  the  scene.  The 
musicians  were  grouped  in  a  corner,  the  violin  standing 
and  reading  his  music  from  a  desk,  while  the  bass  viol, 
crouched  behind  him,  appeared  like  a  familiar  spirit,  in- 
spiring the  basis  of  the  melody  by  unseen  means.  A 
group  of  candles  upon  a  little  shelf  flickered  and  gut- 
tered in  the  night  wind,  and  cast  their  fitful  light  upon 
the  silvery  heads  of  two  old  men  seated  close  together 
and  holding  between  them  one  of  those  short  wide  vol- 
umes of  sacred  melody,  then  newly  in  fashion  and  now 
nearly  forgotten.  They  were  called  psalm-books  rather 
than  hymnals,  because  it  was  still  considered  profane  to 
sing  other  than  the  sacred  songs  of  David  and  the  other 
psalmists  in  divine  worship,  and  it  was  only  after  years 
of  struggle  that  Parson  Robbins,  himself  a  musician,  had 
persuaded  his  people  to  "  condescend  "  either  to  Watts, 
or  Tate  and  Brady,  which  collection  the  parson  himself 
liked  best. 


892    DR.  LeBARON  and  his  DAUGHTERS, 


The  other  and  younger  choristers  stood,  each  keeping 
a  corner  of  his  eye  upon  Churchill,  who,  pitch-pipe  in 
hand,  beat  time,  occasionally  ringing  the  resonant  steel 
against  the  edge  of  the  music-desk.  In  front  of  thia 
group,  in  the  chair  of  state,  sat  Parson  Robbins,  comely 
and  stately,  dressed  in  a  new  suit  of  clerical  black,  a  vo* 
luminous  neckerchief  of  finest  linen  cambric,  and  a  full* 
bottomed  wig,  whose  powdered  curls  well  set  off  his  fresk 
color,  handsome  mouth,  and  mellow  dark  eyes.  He  too 
beat  time,  but  only  with  one  shapely  finger  of  a  remark- 
ably well-kept  hand,  which  fell  quite  noiselessly  upon 
the  silken-hosed  and  well-turned  leg  crossed  above  the 
other. 

"  Good,  good !  "  cried  he,  as  the  last  notes  floated 
out  of  the  window,  and  the  thrill  of  silenced  strings 
vibrated  faintly  for  an  instant,  then  attenuated  into 
silence.  ^'  I  could  find  it  in  my  heart  to  wish  such  a 
glorious  psalm  of  praise  might  so  be  sung  in  meeting 
on  the  Lord's  Day,  but  perhaps  it  would  savor  too  much 
of  carnal  enjoyment." 

"I  don't  know  about  that,  Parson,"  boldly  replied 
Jesse  Churchill,  called  by  his  friends  Apostle  Jesse,  be- 
cause he  never  doubted  his  own  ability  to  preach  and 
to  exhort,  to  admonish  and  to  upbraid,  —  qualities  valu- 
able in  their  place,  but  so  ill  placed  in  this  instance  that 
some  years  later  it  became  the  parson's  painful  duty  to 
excommunicate  Apostle  Jesse,  and  declare  him  anathema 
maranatha  in  the  most  approved  fashion. 

In  the  present  instance,  dreading  perhaps  one  of  the 
discussions  wherein  the  apostle  delighted,  and  which  his 
pastor  abhorred,  the  latter,  blandly  and  vaguely  smiling, 
interrupted  its  preamble  with  — 

Oh,  Brother  Churchill,  have  you  yet  practiced  that 


A  QUILTING  BEE  AND  A  SING.  393 


noble  anthem  of  Mr.  Handel's  of  which  I  spoke  to 
you?" 

Yes,  Parson,  we  propose  to  try  it  now.  We  have 
studied  it  considerable  and,  I  think,  can  do  it  good  jus- 
tice," replied  Churchill,  the  ambition  of  the  musician 
conquering  that  of  the  orator.  And  so  "  the  sing  "  went 
on,  until  the  parson,  rising,  gave  the  signal  for  the  with- 
drawal of  the  older  and  professing portion  of  the 
company,  while  from  the  great  kitchen  arose  the  joyous 
squeak  of  Dauphin's  and  Prince's  fiddles,  hitherto  re- 
strained in  deference  to  the  more  dignified  music  of  the 
fore-room. 

"  Don't  carry  off  your  cousin,  Deborah,"  said  the  hos- 
tess as  the  latter  made  her  adieux.  "  He 's  just  begin- 
ning his  good  time,  and  we  were  young  once  ourselves. 
They  '11  keep  it  up  till  daylight,  and  then  some  of  the 
boys  will  show  him  the  way  to  your  house,  unless  he  'U 
stop  to  breakfast." 

"  That  '11  suit  him,  no  doubt,"  replied  Deborah,  with  a 
rather  weary  smile,  "  and  I  '11  go  home  with  the  How- 
lands  and  Hammatts.  Good-night ;  I 'm  real  glad  I 
came,  for  I  've  had  a  beautiful  time." 

And  the  protestation  was  more  sincere  than  is  somer 
times  made  on  similar  occasions. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 


ROBERT  SHURTLIFFE. 

Early  the  next  morning,  but  yet  not  so  early  that 
Deborah  Samson  had  not  etched  a  good  many  little 
marks  into  her  life's  work,  Robert  Shurtliffe,  hardly  the 
worse  for  a  sleepless  night,  appeared  at  the  house  in 
Middle  Street,  and  was  presented  to  Lydia  and  Debbie 
and  the  little  ones,  a  noisy  and  vigorous  group,  few  of 
whom  were  destined  to  reach  maturity,  for  in  the  "  good 
old  times  "  infant  and  childish  mortality  was  really  ter- 
rible, and  had  not  our  fathers  been  blessed  with  prodi- 
gious families  the  Anglo-Saxon  population  of  this  coun- 
try would  have  been  exterminated  even  sooner  than 
now  appears  likely.  Deborah  was  a  notable  house- 
keeper, and  her  daughters  were  trained  in  thp  same 
good  fashion.  Morning  naps  were  anathema  in  that 
household,  and  if  one  was  attempted  by  the  young  folk, 
even  after  a  night  of  revelry,  the  housemother's  broom- 
handle  was  heard  clattering  on  the  stairs,  while  her 
vigorous  voice  shouted  up  :  — 

"  Come,  girls,  come !  Time  enough  for  sleeping  in 
the  grave !    Get  up  now  !  " 

Another  incitement  to  activity  often  used  by  her  was 
more  according  to  the  frankness  of  that  day  than  the 
reticence  of  this. 

Never  '11  get  a  husband  unless  you  're  smart,"  she 
would  say,  "  not  even  if  you  stood  a-top  the  house  and 
hollered  *  Fire,'  to  draw  the  men  together." 


ROBERT  SHURTLIFFE, 


395 


But  after  the  noonday  dinner  was  eaten  and  cleared 
away,  and  the  girls  had  gone  to  dress  for  the  afternoon, 
the  mistress  of  the  house  led  her  guest  into  the  little- 
used  front  parlor,  and  carefully  closing  the  door,  mo- 
tioned him  to  a  seat. 

I  have  something  to  say  to  you  in  private,  my  lad," 
began  she,  drawing  a  chair  close  in  front  of  him ; 
"  I  Ve  thought  out  your  name.  Jonathan  Samson  left 
two  boys  and  a  girl,  and  the  oldest  boy  was  named  Rob' 
ert  Shurtliffe  Samson,  so  that  was  the  name  I  gave  you 
last  night,  but  when  I  thought  of  it  more,  I  remembered 
that  boy  had  blue  eyes  and  reddish  hair,  and  your  eyes 
are  hazel  and  your  hair  almost  black,  so  you  're  not  he, 
though  you  mean  to  pass  for  him.  Nor  you  're  not 
Ephraim,  for  he 'd  be  younger.  Now  tell  me  just  who 
you  are." 

"  I 'm  Simeon  Samson's  cousin,  and  under  his  roof. 
Is  n't  that  enough  ?  " 

"  Enough  to  make  me  treat  you  as  well  as  I  know 
how,  and  to  keep  you  as  long  as  you  '11  stay,  but  not 
enough  to  tell  me  whether  I 'd  best  put  you  to  sleep  in 
the  girls'  room  or  the  boys'  to-night." 
You  mean  to  say  "  — 

"  There,  there,  sit  down,  my  dear,  and  keep  all  those 
vaporing  airs  for  the  British,  if  you  ever  meet  them.  I 
strongly  suspect  you  're  that  very  Deborah  Samson  who, 
after  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill,  wrote  to  my  husband 
and  wanted  to  go  sailoring  with  him  to  fight  for  her 
country.  She  was  sixteen  or  so  then,  and  now  she 'd 
be  about  twenty,  and  I  strongly  suspicion  she  stands 
before  me  now." 

"  Well,  you  won't  betray  me,  cousin  Deborah,"  replied 
the  other,  coolly ;  "  and  of  all  people  in  the  world  I  think 


896     DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


I soonest  confess  the  truth  to  you,  for  right  well  can  I 
see  that  you  would  do  the  very  same  thing  yourself  if 
you  were  placed  where  I  am." 

You  think  so  ?  It  may  be  you  're  right,  child,  and 
yet  I 'd  be  loath  to  see  my  Lyddy  in  coat  and  breeches." 

"  Lyddy  has  a  father  and  a  mother  and  a  good  home 
and  a  sweetheart,  and  I  have  none  of  them,"  said  the 
girl,  bitterly.  "  And  something  in  my  heart  would  not 
let  me  rest  quiet  feeding  pigs  and  poultry,  and  churning, 
washing,  and  spinning,  while  my  country  called  aloud 
to  her  children  for  help  against  the  tyrant  of  England. 
Ever  since  I  heard  the  cannon  at  Bunker  Hill,  and 
read  of  the  glorious  stand  my  brethren  made  there,  and 
the  death  of  Joseph  Warren,  and  the  ride  of  Paul  Re- 
vere, and  the  noble  deeds  of  young  fellows  no  stronger 
and  no  braver  than  I,  my  heart  has  been  resolved  ;  and 
at  last,  when  I  read  my  cousin  Simeon's  glorious  fight 
with  Dawson,  and  of  his  successes  since,  I  made  up  my 
mind  I'd  sail  under  him,  and  have  my  share  of  the 
glory,  and  had  I  but  been  six  hours  earlier  in  Plymouth, 
you  never  would  have  known  that  Robert  Shurtliffe  is 
no  more  than  poor  Deb  Samson,  the  kitchen  wench." 

Nay,  then,  lass,  't  is  better  I  should  have  been  the 
one  to  find  it  out  than  the  sailors  aboard  the  Mars,"  re- 
plied the  older  woman,  gravely.  "  But  come  now,  child, 
for  you  're  hardly  older  than  my  Lyddy,  tell  me  the 
whole  story  and  what  you 've  done  and  what  you  mean 
to  do,  and  if  I  can  find  it  in  my  conscience  to  help  you, 
I  '11  do  it.  But  be  honest,  my  lass,  be  honest,  or  I  '11 
have  naught  to  do  with  you." 

"  Well,  then,  cousin  Deborah,  I  '11  make  a  clean  breast 
of  it,  and  as  for  being  honest,  I 've  no  skill  nor  experi- 
ence in  lying,  for  that 's  coward's  work,  and  if  I  was  a- 


ROBERT  SHURTLIFFE. 


39T 


coward  I 'd  not  be  here.  Ever  since  I  wrote  cousin 
Simeon,  just  after  Bunker  Hill,  I  *ve  had  my  mind  made 
up,  but  I  could  n't  do  anything  until  I 'd  served  out  my 
time  there  in  Middleboro' ;  for  you  know  I  was  bound 
out  to  Deacon  Thomas  until  I  was  eighteen.  They  were 
kind  enough  to  me,  but  they  did  n't  understand  me  or  T 
them,  and  I  always  felt  like  a  sea-gull  the  boys  trapped 
and  took  off  a  joint  of  his  wing  and  kept  him  in  the 
barnyard.  How  I  pitied  that  poor  bird !  Pitied  him  so 
much  that  one  day  I  wrung  his  neck  and  threw  him  to 
the  pigs.  If  I  could  n't  have  got  away  I  should  have 
wanted  some  one  to  wring  my  neck.  But  after  I  was 
eighteen  and  had  my  time,  I  taught  school  two  winters, 
and  worked  summers  for  wages,  and  so  got  together  a 
little  money.  Then  this  last  winter  I  bought  the  wool, 
and  spun  and  dyed  and  wove  the  cloth  these  clothes 
are  made  of,  and  I  flatter  myself  't  is  a  good  enough 
piece  of  work." 

"  Why,  yes,  't  is  as  handsome  cloth  as  one  would  wish 
to  see,"  replied  Deborah,  examining  the  texture  and 
evenness  of  the  fabric.  '*But  how  did  you  get  them 
made?" 

"Well,  I  said  that  Robert  Shurtliffe,  a  relation  of 
mine,  was  going  to  enlist "  — 

"  I  thought  you  did  n't  know  how  to  lie,"  dryly  inter- 
posed Deborah. 

"  It  was  no  lie,  for  I  had  already  in  my  own  mind 
borrowed  my  brother's  name,  and  is  n't  he  a  relation  of 
mine  ?  " 

"  Well  —  it 's  whipping  the  devil  round  the  stump,  if 
it  is  n't  a  lie,  but  go  on." 

I  told  the  tailor  what  I  say,  and  I  gave  him  the 
measures  for  Robert  Shurtliffe,  and  he  made  the  coat," 


898  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


continued  the  girl,  rather  defiantly,  "  and  for  the  waist- 
coat and  the  breeches  I  stole  the  patterns  from  a  tailor- 
ess  that  was  working  in  the  house,  and  when  I  had  cut 
out  the  clothes  and  put  back  the  patterns,  I  carried  my 
work  up  on  the  hill  where  I  stood  to  hear  the  cannon  of 
Bunker  Hill,  and  there  I  made  them  up,  singing  Yankee 
Doodle  all  the  time,  and  stabbing  a  Britisher  every  time 
I  put  my  needle  through  the  cloth.  Then  a  week  or 
ten  days  ago  I  quietly  put  on  my  clothes,  slipped  out 
of  the  window  before  anybody  was  stirring,  and  after 
wandering  about  a  little  to  try  my  new  clothes,  I  came 
down  here  to  ship  aboard  the  Mars/' 

"  And  now  what  will  you  do,  lass  ?  " 

^'  Go  to  Boston  in  the  packet  to-morrow  morning  and 
ship  for  a  sailor,  or  enlist  for  a  soldier  as  soon  as  may 
be." 

"  Well,  if  you  're  bound  to  carry  it  out,  and  I  won't 
say  but  you're  right  to  follow  your  nature  and  work 
off  some  of  the  sea-gull  in  your  blood,  —  if  you  're 
bound  to  make  trial  of  yourself  in  this  way,  my  advice 
is  to  'list  as  a  soldier.  You  're  not  thrown  with  your 
comrades  as  you 'd  be  aboard  ship,  where,  in  a  crowded 
fo'cas'l,  you  could  hardly  keep  your  sex  a  secret ;  and 
another  thing,  if  you  're  found  out,  or  wounded,  or  get 
sick  of  it,  while  you  're  ashore,  you 've  only  to  say,  '  I 'm 
a  woman,'  or  at  worst  to  run  away  from  manhood  as 
you  did  from  womanhood,  to  get  out  of  the  adventure 
in  a  moment,  while  at  sea  it  might  be  months  before 
you  could  come  by  a  smock  and  petticoat.  The  more  I 
think  on 't,  Deborah,  the  less  I  like  it,  and  the  more  I 'd 
hate  to  see  Lyddy  in  your  place,  but  since  you  're  set  on 
doing  it,  and  are  of  age,  and  in  no  way  bound  to  be  said 
by  me  "  — 


ROBERT  SnURTLIFFE.  399 


"  Come,  now,  cousin  Deborah,  you  're  going  back  on 
what  you  allowed  but  now  about  the  sea-gull  blood  and 
all.  You  might  show  a  little  kindness  to  a  motherless 
girl,  for  your  own  girl's  sake." 

"  Nay,  Deb,  if  you  take  it  that  way  —  if  you  come 
to  me  as  a  motherless  girl  of  my  husband's  kin,  I  speak 
to  you  very  different.  Go  away  for  a  few  days,  and 
come  back  dressed  as  a  modest  maid,  and  I  '11  give  you 
a  home  and  a  welcome,  and  be  a  mother  to  you,  and 
keep  you  till  some  good  man  takes  you  to  wife  "  — 

I  want  no  good  man  taking  me  to  wife,  and  I  want 
no  petticoat,  nor  apron,  nor  dish-clout,  nor  to  be  tied  by 
the  leg  in  a  barnyard !  I 've  borne  it  all  this  twenty 
year,  and  I  '11  have  no  more  of  it.  But  thank  you, 
cousin,  for  your  kindly  offer,  thank  you  heartily." 

"  You  're  welcome  to  the  offer,  and 't  was  an  honest 
one,  but  I 'd  as  lief  you  did  n't  take  up  with  it  after  all. 
I  don't  well  know  how  to  care  for  sea-gulls,  and  my  own 
chicks  are  wild  enough  without  such  teaching." 

"  But  we  're  friends,  cousin.  Sure  you  won't  take 
back  the  kindness  you 've  showed." 

And  the  strange  girl  caught  the  matron  by  both 
shoulders,  and  stooping  from  her  lofty  height,  looked 
wistfully  into  the  other's  eyes  while  tears  gathered  in 
her  own. 

"  There,  now,  child  !  You 've  put  on  the  hosen,  but 
you  have  n't  put  on  the  nature  of  a  man.  You  must 
have  some  one  to  bid  you  have  your  own  way,  though 
you 'd  never  give  it  up  if  they  bid  you.  You  must  be  a 
rebel  to  womanhood,  and  yet  you  must  be  loved  and 
petted  because  you  are  a  woman.  Nay,  I  '11  put  you  to 
sleep  neither  with  the  girls  nor  the  boys,  for  you 've  the 
nature  of  neither,  because  you 've  the  nature  of  both. 


400  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


You  shall  sleep  on  the  kitchen  floor,  and  to-morrow  you 
shall  go ;  but  here 's  a  kiss  for  you,  poor  girl,  and  a 
prayer  that  God  will  protect  you  from  all  evil  and  from 
your  own  silly  self." 

So  the  next  morning  Robert  Shurtliffe  went  up  to 
Boston  in  the  packet,  carrying  with  him  a  store  of 
Captain  Samson's  linen,  and  five  dollars  in  money, 
besides  the  hearty  parting  kiss  of  the  captain's  wife  and 
daughters. 

William  Goodwin  was  very  jealous  of  the  tender  fare- 
well the  young  recruit  took  of  pretty  Lydia,  but  she  did 
not  know  of  the  explanation  that  would  have  proved  the 
antidote  to  such  jealousy,  nor  could  she  understand  her 
mother's  amusement  thereat. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 


HORATIO  NELSON  AND  LUCY  HAMMATT. 

Anatomists  tell  us  that  the  more  highly  developed  the 
organism  of  the  living  creature,  the  greater  the  capacity 
for  pain;  and  the  scale  of  sensation  ranges  from  the 
protoplasm  we  call  jelly-fish  up  to  the  refined,  sensitive, 
and  introspective  woman,  who  possesses  probably  the 
most  highly  developed  capacity  for  pain  to  be  found 
upon  this  globe. 

Lucy  Rowland  Hammatt  was  a  woman  of  this  order, 
and  she  had  lost  her  husband,  and  her  place  as  head  of 
his  house,  and  nearly  all  the  little  fortune  he  and  her 
father  had  left  her,  and  she  was  not  happy.  It  will  be 
remembered  that  she  was  the  mother  of  three  children : 
Abraham,  married  to  Priscilla  LeBaron ;  William,  mar- 
ried to  Hepzibah  Barker  of  Nantucket,  whither  he  had 
gone  to  live  ;  and  Lucy,  as  yet  unmarried,  chiefly  because 
she  was  so  requiring,  so  sarcastic,  and  so  haughty,  that 
the  young  men  were  afraid  of  her.  She  it  was,  who, 
when  Abraham,  almost  ruined  by  the  collapse  of  the 
Continental  currency,  and  by  bad  debts  incurred  in  the 
war  famine,  came  home  one  night  discouraged,  gloomy, 
and  silent,  save  for  a  few  words  about  the  poorhouse 
and  beggary,  bitterly  told  her  mother  in  the  seclusion  of 
her  own  bedroom  that  Abraham  was  groaning  under 
the  burden  of  their  maintenance  and  hinting  at  their  de- 
parture ;  and  finally  persuaded  the  grieved  and  sensitive 


402   DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


woman  to  write  and  offer  a  visit  to  her  son  William, 
who,  with  his  rich  wife  and  lucrative  oil-business,  was 
exceeding  well  to  do,  and  had  often  urged  his  mother 
and  sister  to  come  and  make  their  home  with  him. 

"And  William  is  coming  to  Plymouth  next  week, 
and  will  take  us  with  him,"  continued  Lucy,  eagerly, 

so  don't  say  a  word  to  Abr'am  or  Priscilla  until  we 
are  all  ready  to  go  and  my  brother  is  here,  and  then 
tell  Abr'am  before  William  that  you  are  going  to  relieve 
him  of  one  burden,  at  least." 

"  No,  no,  Lucy,  I  sha'n't  do  it  that  way,"  replied  the 
mother,  promptly ;  "  one  son  is  just  as  dear  to  me  as  the 
other,  and  I  would  no  more  hurt  Abr'am's  feelings  than 
I  would  Willy's.  I  shall  tell  them  that  we  've  concluded 
to  accept  some  of  Hepsey's  cordial  invitations  and  make 
a  little  visit  at  Nantucket ;  then  we  '11  just  leave  the  rest 
to  shape  itself  as  it  will.  It 's  not  poor  Abr'am's  fault 
if  he 's  unfortunate,  and  Priscilla 's  been  a  good  daugh- 
ter to  me.  And  then  —  your  father 's  waiting  for  me, 
up  on  Burying  Hill." 

And  the  widow  hastily  went  away  to  her  own  room. 
A  little  later,  the  mother-heart,  large  and  warm  in  her, 
led  her  downstairs  again  to  the  sitting-room,  where  she 
found  her  son  standing  over  a  portable  mahogany  desk 
which  he  had  placed  upon  the  table  and  opened ;  now, 
with  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  his  lips  drawn  to 
something  between  a  rueful  smile  and  a  noiseless  whis- 
tle, he  stood  regarding  the  parcels  of  banknotes  neatly 
ranged  side  by  side,  and  filling  the  entire  desk.  It  was 
his  wife's  dowry,  paid  by  her  father's  administrator  in 
Continental  currency,  still  legal  tender,  but  so  deterio- 
rated as  to  be  worth  little  more  than  the  paper  it  was 
printed  on. 


HORATIO  NELSON,  LUCY  IIAMMATT.  403 


"  It  was  a  scurvy  trick,  a  scurvy  trick,  to  make  me 
take  it,"  Abraham  was  saying  as  his  mother  entered  the 
room,  and  Priscilla,  without  raising  her  eyes  from  her 
knitting,  replied  in  a  voice  of  quiet  sarcasm :  — 

"  We  children  each  used  to  have  a  hen  and  sell  the 
eggs  to  the  house,  but  my  hen  never  laid  anything  and 
brother  Billy's  always  laid  two  a  day." 

Quietly  drawing  back,  the  mother  closed  the  door,  and 
went  softly  upstairs  again,  sorry  that  she  had  heard 
what  Priscilla  did  not  mean  to  say  before  her.  And 
the  consciousness  made  her  yet  more  desolate  than  she 
was  before. 

The  next  day  she  gently  made  known  her  plan  of 
returning  to  Nantucket  with  her  son  William  and  mak- 
ing a  considerable  visit  to  him  and  his  wife,  who  had 
urgently  invited  her  and  Lucy  to  do  so. 

Abraham,  with  that  singular  want  of  perception  in 
matters  of  sentiment  characterizing  strong-natured,  hon- 
est, and  busy  men,  cheerfully  indorsed  the  idea,  thought 
and  said  that  it  would  be  a  pleasant  change  for  his 
mother,  and  completed  the  measure  of  his  offenses  by 
saying,  with  a  slap  on  Lucy's  shoulder  :  "  And  mayhap, 
Lu,  you  '11  pick  up  a  husband  among  those  rich 
whalers." 

"And  so  ease  you  of  my  support,"  replied  Lucy, 
bursting  into  a  cold  and  bitter  little  storm  of  tears  and 
running  out  of  the  room. 

"  Why,  what  under  the  sun  !  "  —  began  her  brother  in 
astonishment,  but  behold,  his  mother  had  followed  her 
daughter,  and  Priscilla,  laughing  in  such  a  fashion  that 
one  wondered  if  it  was  not  an  unsuccessful  attempt  at 
crying,  came  and  put  her  arms  around  his  neck  and  her 
face  on  his  shoulder,  while  she  sobbed :  — 


404  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


"  You  poor  stupid  darling !  It  was  the  very,  very  last 
thing  you  should  have  said.  Every  bit  of  the  fat 's  in 
the  fire  now,  and  you  must  just  wait  till  it 's  burnt  up. 
Then  we  can  make  a  fresh  start." 

"  Well,  thank  the  Lord  that  you  We  all  right,  Pris," 
replied  her  husband,  with  a  groan,  as  he  clasped  his 
wife  tighter  with  one  arm,  and  with  the  other  hand 
wiped  his  perplexed  and  moist  forehead. 

"  Yes,  dear,  I 'm  all  right  now,  because  I  have  you, 
and  I 'm  young,  and  it 's  I  that  order  the  house  in  my 
own  fashion ;  but,  Abe,  darling,  if  the  time  should  come 
that  I  must  live  with  our  Willy's  wife,  or  any  of  the 
rest  of  them,  I  don't  doubt  I  shall  feel  just  as  mother 
does  now.  It 's  human  nature,  Abe,  and  women  are 
very  much  alike  after  all.'' 

"  Is  it  ?  —  but  I  don't  see  why  they  need  feel  so,'* 
murmured  Abraham  in  masculine  bewilderment,  but 
Priscilla  kissed  him  again,  and  his  brow  cleared. 

William  came  in  April,  and  in  July  Abraham  wrote 
his  mother  a  letter  which,  after  more  than  a  century,  is 
so  fresh  in  its  manly  tenderness  and  honesty  that  it 
does  one  good  to  read  it. 

Plymouth,  20th  July  1782. 

Dear  Mama,  —  I  am  surprised  &  disappointed  to 
find  by  liucy's  gloomy  Epistle  that  you  continue  at 
Nantucket  yet,  without  having  even  fix'd  the  time  for 
coming  off. 

We  had  all  flatter'd  ourselves  that  we  should  have 
seen  you  here  before  this  time ;  —  remember  D' 
Madam  that  winter  approaches  &  Signify  to  the  Squire 
your  pleasure  to  return,  who  promis'd  when  he  took  you 
from  us,  that  he  would  return  you  as  soon  as  you  wm 


HORATIO  NELSON,  LUCY  HAM  MATT.  405 


willing ;  if  he  cant  come  with  you,  it  is  better  to  come 
with  somebody  else,  than  to  wait  even  one  fortnight. 

Mrs.  Thomas  is  the  paler  for  y'  absence,  &  Aunt 
Betty  ^  will  be  sick  if  you  dont  prevent  it  by  coming 
home. 

My  wife  and  your  little  grand-daughter  long  to  see 
you,  others  of  your  friends  sincerely  wish  your  return, 
and  I  do  assure  you  there  is  no  event  within  the  com- 
pass of  my  expectation  that  I  anticipate  with  half  the 
pleasure. 

I  Ve  the  pleasure  to  inform  you,  that  my  Business 
increases ;  I  have  two  Apprentices  who  are  both  Spin- 
ners, four  Tons  of  Hemp  in  my  Loft,  a  prospect  of 
more  for  the  Winter  &  as  much  work  as  I  can  do  in 
the  Spring,  so  that  I  begin  sometimes  to  expect  better 
Days,  &  to  see  myself  once  more  in  easy  circum- 
stances, which  I  shall  never  consider  myself  as  being  in 
untill  my  Mama  &  Sister  enjoy  ease  and  Independence. 
Tell  Lucy  this,  and  persuade  her  to  believe  it ;  tell  her 
that  I  Love  her  heartily,  that  so  far  from  its  being  a 
burthen,  one  of  the  first  pleasures  if  not  the  very  first 
that  I  promise  myself  from  being  in  Business,  is  that  I 
shall  be  able  to  contribute  to  her  Ease  &  Happiness. 
I  should  have  written  her,  but  really  have  not  Time, 
having  wrote  many  Letters  before  this.  I  must  now 
conclude  &  we  shall  all  expect  to  see  you  both  soon,  and 
all  join  in  Love  to  all  of  you. 

From  your  affectionate  son, 

A.  Hammatt. 

I  suppose  no  mother  ever  lived  who  could  have  hard- 
ened herself  against  the  sweetness,  the  strength,  and  the 
^  Two  of  Madam  Hammatt' s  sisters. 


406  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


honesty  of  such  an  appeal,  and  some  two  weeks  after 
its  receipt  Madam  Hammatt,  resisting  both  the  tender 
entreaties  of  her  son  William  and  the  more  acid  sug- 
gestions of  her  daughter  Lucy,  who  found  herself  rather 
amused  with  the  opportunity  of  refusing  a  good  deal  of 
solid,  if  oleaginous  wealth,  took  passage  in  the  schooner 
Harmony,  owned  in  Plymouth  by  Captain  Thomas  Davis, 
and  commanded  by  Captain  Nathaniel  Carver,  of  that 
town. 

The  voyage  was  prosperous  and  promised  to  be  short, 
when  one  morning  between  the  Harmony  and  the  rising 
sun  arose  the  stately  masts  of  a  frigate,  which  presently, 
running  the  Union  Jack  to  her  mast-head,  fired  a  gun 
across  the  bows  of  the  schooner,  at  the  same  time  mak- 
ing a  graceful  sweep  that  brought  her  up  into  the  wind, 
while  through  his  glass  Captain  Carver  could  make  out 
hands  already  lowering  one  of  the  taut  boats  swinging 
from  their  davits  on  either  quarter  of  the  frigate. 

"  No  use  to  try  either  to  fight  or  run,  since  for  fight- 
ing I  Ve  only  my  fists,  and  for  running,  sails  big  enough 
for  a  patch  on  his  fo's'l,"  slowly  remarked  the  Plymouth 
man,  shutting  up  his  old  spy-glass,  and  setting  his  hat 
on  the  back  of  his  head.  "  Might  as  well  lay  to,  Wash- 
burn.   I  hope  he  '11  be  civil  to  the  women." 

"  I  '11  pity  him  if  he  comes  to  close  quarters  with  the 
gal ;  she 'd  scratch  his  eyes  out  'fore  you 'd  say  *  knife,'  " 
replied  Washburn,  who  had  tried  to  make  himself  agree- 
able to  Miss  Lucy. 

In  another  half  hour  the  crew  of  the  launch  had 
taken  quiet  possession  of  the  Harmony,  and  the  captain 
with  his  papers  was  about  obeying  the  command  of  his 
captors,  and  presenting  himself  on  board  the  frigate, 
when  he  stopped  to  say  to  the  officer  in  command :  — 


HORATIO  NELSON,  LUCY  BAM  MATT.  40T 


"  There 's  an  old  lady  and  her  daughter  in  the  cabin, 
passengers  for  Plymouth.  They  are  some  of  our  most 
respectable  people,  and  I  hope  you  won't  let  any  of  your 
men  speak  sa'cy  or  the  like  of  that  to  them,  and  that 
your  cap'n  will  set  them  ashore  safe,  whatever  he 
bound  to  do  with  the  rest  of  us/' 

"Make  yourself  easy,  Captain,"  replied  the  royal 
lieutenant,  graciously.    "  We  don't  fight  women,  and  I 
don't  doubt  Captain  Nelson  will  see  that  they  are  set 
ashore  as  soon  as  possible." 
Nelson  is  his  name  ?  " 

"Yes.  Lieutenant-Commander  Horatio  Nelson,  at 
present  master  of  His  Majesty's  frigate  Albemarle.  We 
are  exploring  the  naval  capacities  of  your  coast,  Master 
Carver,  and  find  it  more  picturesque  than  navigable.  I 
suppose  you  are  familiar  with  this  part  of  it." 

"  I 'd  ought  to  be,  having  sailed  these  waters,  boy  and 
man,  for  thirty  years  or  more,"  growled  Carver,  vaguely 
resenting  the  light  badinage  of  the  other's  tone. 

"  Just  the  man  we  want,"  replied  the  lieutenant,  as 
the  launch  grazed  the  frigate's  side.  "  Will  you  step 
on  deck.  Master  Carver  ?  " 

Silently  obeying,  the  prisoner  found  himself  con- 
fronted by  the  slight  but  noble  figure  and  the  com- 
manding regard  of  one  of  the  foremost  heroes  of  the 
world's  history ;  the  man  who  fought  so  well  the  battles 
of  a  great  nation,  giving  his  life  for  her  glory,  and  who, 
in  his  dying  words,  "  Kiss  me,  Hardy  !  "  showed  at  once 
the  strength  and  the  weakness  of  his  nature. 

But  as  yet  the  glory  and  the  shame  were  hidden  in 
the  breast  of  the  future,  and  the  lieutenant-commander 
dreamed  not  of  Lord  Nelson's  fame. 

One  glance  of  those  penetrating  eyes  showed  to  this 


408     DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


born  leader  of  men  the  honesty  and  simplicity  of  his 
captive,  and  it  was  with  something  warmer  than  civility 
that  he  led  him  down  into  his  cabin,  ordered  refresh- 
ments set  before  him,  and  then,  with  map  and  chart, 
questioned  him  closely  as  to  the  lay  of  the  coast. 

Well,  it 's  pretty  intricate,  is  n't  it  ?  "  declared  he 
at  last.  And  I 'm  afraid.  Captain,  I  shall  have  to  take 
your  pretty  little  schooner  as  a  tender,  and  keep  you  on 
board  for  a  while  as  pilot.  I  am  sorry  to  have  to  re- 
mind you  of  the  fate  of  pilots  attempting  treachery 
under  such  circumstances." 

Captain  Carver  meditated  for  a  moment,  turned  the 
quid  in  his  cheek,  thrust  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and 
his  heels  as  far  as  they  would  stretch  out  upon  the  pol- 
ished floor,  and  finally  with  the  ruddy  color  perceptibly 
ebbing  away  from  beneath  the  bronze  of  his  cheek,  he 
quietly  said  :  — 

"  If  you  're  going  to  ask  me  to  pilot  you  into  Plym- 
outh Harbor,  with  a  view  to  attackting  the  town.  Com- 
mander, you  may  as  well  string  me  up  to  your  yard- 
arm  first  as  last,  for  I  won't  do  it.  But  if  all  you  want 
is  to  cruise  up  and  down  the  coast,  go  and  set  on  Co- 
hasset  rocks  by  moonlight,  try  to  get  into  Provincetown 
without  scraping  a  shoal,  or  the  like  of  that,  why,  if  it 's 
pilot  you  or  hang,  I 'd  rather  pilot  you ;  and  if  I  say  I  '11 
do  it,  I  '11  do  it  honest,  for  that 's  the  way  we  Plymouth 
boys  are  brought  up  by  our  mammys." 

"Shake  hands  on  it.  Captain,  shake  hands,"  said 
Nelson.  "  And  when  I 'm  looking  for  a  Benedict  Arnold 
I  sha'n't  go  to  Plymouth  for  him." 

"  Better  not,  Captain,  for  if  you  did  you  might  catch 
a  Tartar.  Our  folks  have  got  kind  o'  erritable  in  these 
days,  and  don't  like  jokes  on  sore  subjects." 


HORATIO  NELSON,  LUCY  HAM  MATT.  409 


"  You  're  right,  Carver,  you  're  right,  man,  and  I'm 
wrong,"  said  Nelson,  stretching  out  his  hand,  which  the 
other  placably  enfolded  in  a  mighty  grasp,  while  he 
continued  in  the  same  even  tone :  — 

"  There 's  one  thing  more.  Captain.  I  've  got  a  couple 
of  passengers  aboard,  gentlewomen,  bound  for  Plym« 
outh  where  they  belong.  One  of  them  is  elderly  and 
the  other  not  so  young  as  she  once  was.  You  '11  set 
them  ashore  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  We  '11  stand  as  far  into  Plymouth  Har- 
bor as  you  find  safe,  and  then  your  crew  shall  take  the 
ladies  with  their  luggage  and  the  men's  kits  ashore  in 
the  schooner's  two  boats.  I  suppose  you  can  stand  in 
far  enough  to  make  it  safe  both  for  the  frigate  and  the 
boats,  eh  ?  " 

"  Lord,  yes,  on  a  flood  tide  and  a  fair  wind  it 's  safe 
for  a  boat  anywhere  inside  o'  Manomet." 

And  thus  it  came  about  that  on  the  12th  of  August, 
1782,  Madam  Ham  matt  and  her  daughter  Lucy  with 
all  their  bandboxes  were  set  ashore  on  Davis'  wharf, 
to  the  great  admiration  and  excitement  of  their  towns- 
folk, who  crowded  down  to  welcome  and  question  them. 

A  week  or  so  later,  Captain  Nathaniel  Carver  him- 
self strolled  into  town  by  way  of  the  Beach,  at  the  back 
of  which  he  had  been  set  ashore  in  the  early  morning. 

So  rose-colored  was  his  report  to  his  owner  of  his  treat- 
ment while  on  board  of  the  Albemarle,  and  of  Captain 
Nelson's  manners  and  feelings  toward  the  Americans, 
that  Captain  Davis,  too  good  a  business  man  to  relin« 
quish  his  property  even  to  the  king,  without  an  effort  to 
retain  it,  took  counsel  with  himself  and  his  friends,  and 
while  the  Albemarle  still  cruised  in  the  offing  as  though 
loath  to  leave  so  fair  a  neighborhood,  he  borrowed  a  big 


410   DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


boat,  hastily  loaded  it  with  fresh  meat,  poultry,  vegeta- 
bles, and  fruit,  and,  accompanied  by  Captain  Carver,  put 
boldly  out,  past  the  Beach,  past  Saquish  and  the  Gur- 
net, and  standing  over  toward  Manomet  ran  across  the 
fore-foot  of  the  frigate  which,  as  if  astonished  at  his  au- 
dacity, swooped  easily  down  upon  him,  and  with  her 
tower  of  snow-white  canvas  fluttering  in  the  wind,  lay 
to,  with  an  interrogation  mark  at  each  yardarm. 

"  We  're  in  for  it  now,  Carver,"  said  Captain  Davis, 
softly,  as  the  former  deftly  laid  the  boat  alongside  the 
Albemarle,  "  and  either  we  '11  carry  the  Harmony  home 
with  us,  or  Discord  will  carry  us  to  Dartmoor." 

"  Nothing  venture,  nothing  have,"  growled  Nathaniel 
Carver,  and  the  two  men  mounted  the  ladder  thrown 
over  for  their  accommodation.  On  the  deck  stood  Nel- 
son, who,  with  courteous  smile  and  ready  hand,  welcomed 
his  late  prisoner  and  his  owner,  who  after  a  few  words 
of  greeting  made  known  his  errand  in  the  manly  and 
straightforward  fashion  sure  to  gain  the  approbation  of 
a  man  like  Nelson. 

Not  immediately  answering  his  petition,  however,  the 
commander  invited  his  guests  to  the  cabin,  where  the 
steward  presently  laid  a  collation  of  such  dried  dainties 
as  his  larder  afforded,  the  host  remarking  with  a  smile 
0.S  he  pressed  one  dish  and  another  upon  his  guests,  — 

"  For  once  I  must  be  excused,  gentlemen,  from  the 
duties  of  a  host,  and  not  offer  you  the  best  I  have, 
merely  informing  you  that  some  hampers  of  delicious 
fruit  and  vegetables  have  just  come  aboard,  but  as  they 
are  the  gift  of  a  friend  I  do  not  feel  that  I  may  part 
with  them." 

"  Not  another  word.  Commander,"  replied  Davis, 
helping  himself  to  some  dried  fruit.  "  I 'd  far  rather 
have  your  figs  than  your  grape-shot." 


HORATIO  NELSON,  LUCY  HAMMATT.  411 


"  Good  !  But  you  won't  refuse  the  juice  of  the  grape, 
I  trust,"  replied  Nelson,  offering  a  bottle  of  port,  not  yet 
a  traditional  beverage.  And  so  a  pleasant  hour  passed 
by,  and  at  the  end  Nelson  received  a  private  report 
from  the  officer  of  the  watch,  and  inviting  his  guests 
on  deck,  pointed  to  the  schooner  which  had  been 
brought  alongside,  remarking  good-hum  or  edly,  — 

"  And  now,  gentlemen,  that  we  may  part  in  perfect 
Harmony,  allow  me  to  restore  the  schooner,  and  present 
you  with  this  certificate  of  release." 

Perhaps  one  should  apologize  for  presenting  the  hero 
of  Trafalgar  in  the  guise  of  a  punster,  but  puns  as  well 
as  port  were  still  in  fashion,  and  indulgence  in  the  one 
naturally  led  to  the  other.  The  certificate,  still  extant, 
runs  as  follows :  — 

These  are  to  certify  that  I  took  the  schooner  Har- 
mony, Nathaniel  Carver,  Master,  belonging  to  Plym- 
outh ;  but  on  account  of  his  good  services,  have  given 
him  up  his  vessel  again. 

Dated  on  board  His  Majesty's  ship  Albemarle,  17th 
August,  1782,  in  Boston  Bay. 

Horatio  Nelson. 

"  Massachusetts  Bay  is  n't  Boston  Harbor,"  remarked 
Captain  Thomas  Davis  as  he  folded  up  the  certificate 
and  put  it  in  his  pocket,  "but  there  was  no  mistake 
about  Nelson's  port,  eh,  Carver  ?  " 

And  Carver,  who  did  not  perceive  the  play  upon 
words,  answered  dryly  :  — 

"  The  only  mistake,  to  my  mind,  was  that  it  wasn't 
Santa  Cruz  rum." 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

MOTHER  Crewe's  last  curse. 

Deborah  Samson  has  said  that  the  Howlands  were 
fond  of  land,  and  the  old  records  prove  her  judgment 
just.  Travel  southward  by  Watson's  Hill  and  Jabez' 
Corner  toward  Manomet,  or  northward  by  Rocky  Nook 
toward  Kingston,  or  wander  hither  and  thither  in  the 
old  town  looking  up  the  title-deeds  of  men's  estates,  and 
everywhere  you  come  upon  the  name  of  Howland,  with 
John,  Joseph,  Thomas,  Consider,  or  Thomas  Southworth, 
as  a  prefix.  They  loved  land,  and  they  owned  a  great 
deal,  first  and  last,  but  in  the  end  lost  all  except  the  six 
feet  apportioned  to  every  one  of  them  on  Burying  Hill. 
Naturally  with  the  love  of  land  came  the  love  of  primo- 
geniture, and  before  the  Revolution,  this,  being  English 
law,  was  the  law  of  English  Colonies,  if  any  man  cared 
to  put  it  in  practice.  There  is  a  tradition  that  Pilgrim 
John,  although  glad  to  come  to  the  New  World  as 
squire  to  Governor  Carver,  was  a  cadet  of  the  noble 
house  since  united  with  that  of  Bedford,  whose  duke 
still  enumerates  Baron  Howland  among  his  other  titles. 
The  tradition  may,  or  may  not,  be  well  founded,  but  if 
true,  explains  in  a  degree  this  eminently  patrician  fancy 
for  the  rights  of  primogeniture,  and  excuses  somewhat 
Consider  Rowland's  tyranny  in  seizing  under  the  law 
of  entail  poor  Jedediah  Samson's  little  farm  and  home- 
stead. 


MOTHER  CREWE'S  LAST  CURSE.  418 


S'uth'ard  Rowland  inherited,  along  with  much  land, 
the  passion  for  entail,  primogeniture,  and  the  rest,  and 
as  the  Revolution  drew  near  its  close,  and  it  became  evi- 
dent to  all  men  that  the  reign  of  democracy,  equal 
rights,  and  primitive  justice  was  to  rule  in  the  embryo 
Republic,  S'uth'ard  began  to  look  up  the  outlying  nooks 
and  corners  of  his  estate*^,  with  a  view  to  consolidating 
his  titles  in  case  they  were  to  be  questioned. 

One  of  these  outlying  nooks  was  a  piece  of  woodland, 
some  ten  acres  in  extent,  upon  the  Carver  road,  and  after 
studying  the  deed  which  had  given  it  to  his  grandfather, 
with  a  good  deal  more  land,  since  disposed  of,  S'uth'ard 
one  day  rode  out  to  view  it,  and  arrange  for  its  being 
staked  off  and  fenced.  The  land  was  where  he  ex- 
pected to  find  it,  but  nearly  in  the  centre  stood  a  dilapi- 
dated and  squalid  cabin,  with  a  thread  of  peaty  smoke 
curling  out  of  its  lath-and-plaster  chimney. 

"  What 's  this  !  Who 's  trespassing  on  my  property  ?  " 
demanded  S'uth'ard,  angrily,  of  his  companion,  one 
Henchman,  who  combined  the  duties  of  bailiff,  surveyor, 
amateur  attorney,  and  confidential  adviser  to  several  of 
the  landed  proprietors  of  Plymouth,  Rowland  among 
the  rest.  He  was  a  useful  little  man  in  his  way,  but 
neither  dignified  nor  comely,  possessing  a  mean  figure, 
red  hair,  squinting  green  eyes,  and  a  squeaky  false 
voice  which  he  tried  to  make  ingratiating,  but  only  made 
repulsive. 

"  Why,  this  is  the  residence  of  Madam  Crewe,  Squire," 
replied  he  now,  with  a  sniggering  laugh.  "  Witch  Crewe, 
they  call  her  commonly  ;  she  has  resided  here  for  some 
years,  and  I  believe  had  this  mansion  erected  "  — 

"  Stop  your  fooling,  and  tell  me  how  it  is  I  did  not 
know  she  was  still  here  ?    demanded  S'uth'ard,  the  veins 


414     DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


in  his  throat  swelling,  and  the  purplish  flush  that  marked 
his  wrath  mounting  to  his  forehead. 

"  Well,  Squire,  I  must  say  it 's  a  little  unreasonable  to 
make  me  accountable  for  your  not  knowing  anything," 
replied  Henchman,  his  own  face  turning  green,  which 
was  his  way  of  showing  righteous  indignation. 

Howland  glared  at  him  for  a  moment,  but  perhaps 
considering  that  it  was  better  to  turn  his  wrath  into  a 
more  effective  channel,  he  rode  up  to  the  door  of  the 
cabin,  and  with  his  whip-handle  beat  a  summons,  im- 
mediately answered,  for  the  door  flew  open,  and  upon 
the  threshold  appeared  the  bent  and  decrepit  figure  of 
mother  Crewe,  leaning  upon  her  staff,  and  with  Milcom 
perched  upon  her  shoulder.  Great  age  had  reduced  the 
old  woman's  flesh  to  the  color  and  consistence  of  parch- 
ment, clinging  to  the  bones  of  face  and  neck  and  hands 
much  in  the  grewsome  fashion  of  a  mummy,  while  from 
the  deep  caverns,  whither  they  had  retreated,  her  eyes 
gleamed  with  malevolent  energy,  and  her  toothless  jaws, 
silently  working  as  she  gazed  upon  her  visitor,  seemed, 
as  they  had  years  before,  to  be  chewing  the  curses  they 
would  presently  emit. 

"  Well,  man  of  violence  and  wrath,  what  do  you 
want  here  ? "  demanded  she,  at  length.  Her  voice 
broke  the  spell  of  perplexity  and  awe  that  had  arrested 
Rowland's  mood,  as  the  wind  from  hidden  icebergs  will 
sometimes  chill  and  check  the  boiling  blood. 

"  What  do  I  want !  "  demanded  he.  "  I  fancy  the 
question  is,  what  do  you  want  on  another  man's  prop- 
erty? Do  you  know  this  is  my  land,  woman,  and 
that  you  have  no  more  right  to  put  up  a  house  here 
than  you  have  to  come  and  sit  by  my  fireside  ?  " 

"  Your  fireside  will  soon  be  desolate,  S'uth'ard  How- 


MOTHER  CREWE'S  LAST  CURSE.  415 


land,  soon,  soon !  The  shadow  is  almost  even  with  your 
lips,  and  it  rises,  —  rises  fast." 

"  None  of  your  witch-talk  to  me,  woman,"  replied 
Rowland,  involuntarily  raising  his  hand  to  his  face,  and 
seeming  to  brush  away  something.  "  I 'm  not  to  be 
frightened  out  of  my  rights  in  that  way,  I  can  promise 
you.  I  tell  you  again  this  land  is  mine,  and  I  am  going 
fco  fence  it,  and  —  may  be  cultivate  it.  At  any  rate,  I 
don't  want  a  tenant  on  it,  and  you  '11  have  to  vacate,  and 
that  at  once.  This  day  week,  the  plough  will  be  run- 
ning over  the  spot  you  stand  on.  You  understand,  do 
you,  mother  Crewe  ?  " 

"  This  day  week,  this  day  week,  man  of  violence  and 
wrath,  they  will  dig  your  grave  on  Burying  Hill.  I 
see  it,  I  hear  it,  I  smell  the  fresh  earth  they  throw  out. 
Go,  poor  wretch,  go  make  your  peace,  and  set  your 
house  in  order  ;  this  day  week,  yes  —  the  shadow  rises, 
rises  to  your  lips,  —  go !  " 

She  stretched  out  her  claw-like  hand,  she  raised  her 
glittering  eyes,  and  a  strange  shudder  shook  her  frame 
from  head  to  foot,  while  Milcom,  standing  upon  her 
shoulder,  his  legs  and  tail  stiffened  like  iron,  and  his 
green  eyes  ablaze,  uttered  a  long  wail  of  demoniac 
meaning. 

Terror,  shame,  superstition,  and  a  thwarted  will  are 
powerful  factors  to  work  in  a  haughty  and  uncontrolled 
nature,  and  as  they  rose  tumultuously  in  S'uth'ard  How- 
land's  blood  they  heated  it  to  such  a  point  that  the  man 
lost  all  control  of  himself ;  and  lifting  his  clenched  hand 
above  his  head  he  swore  a  terrible,  a  blasphemous 
oath,  that  before  the  next  day's  sun  should  set,  his  land 
should  be  rid  of  this  insolent  intruder,  her  hovel  should 
be  leveled  with  the  dust,  and  she  herself,  if  she  could 


416  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


be  found,  burnt  as  a  witch,  or  driven  from  the  town  at 
the  cart's  tail. 

Mother  Crewe  listened,  and  ever  as  she  listened  laid 
her  ear  to  Milcom's  mouth  as  if  from  his  wailings  she 
gained  counsel ;  but  when  at  last,  choked  with  his  own 
rage,  and  foaming  at  the  mouth,  Rowland  gasped  into 
silence,  the  hag  raised  her  bent  form  with  a  power  none 
could  have  imagined  remained  in  its  sinews,  and  with 
glazed  eyes  seemed  to  look  upon  some  scene  pictured 
in  the  green  gloom  of  the  forest  before  her.  Then 
slowly  pointing,  slowly  tracing  the  outline  of  what  she 
saw  with  a  skinny  finger,  she  said :  — 

"  Carry  him  home  —  the  gate  will  do  —  come  wife  — 
come  sister  —  children  —  scream,  cover  your  eyes  — 
die,  poor  maid,  broken  by  the  curse  on  Ansel  Ring  — 
killed  by  the  curse  on  S'uth'ard  Rowland  —  die,  poor 
maid,  for  the  sins  of  others  '*  — 

But  at  this  moment,  Rowland,  with  a  sort  of  scream 
of  rage,  uplifted  his  hand  and  tried  to  force  his  horse 
nearer  to  the  door,  for  what  purpose  no  one  need  to 
guess,  for  it  was  never  accomplished,  the  horse  rearing 
and  plunging  in  such  fashion  that  the  rider's  atten- 
tion and  wrath  were  presently  absorbed  by  him,  and 
before  the  contest  was  finished  Mother  Crewe  had 
disappeared  and  the  door  was  closed. 

"  Come  away.  Squire,  come  away  !  "  exclaimed  Rench- 
man,  his  green-hued  cheeks  and  chattering  teeth  betray- 
ing a  very  real  and  absorbing  terror.  "  There 's  no 
credit  and  no  profit  in  fighting  witches.  Come  away 
and  let  her  alone,  she  can't  live  long,  and  she  can't 
hurt  the  land  "  — 

"  Rold  your  tongue,  Renchman  !  Rere,  hold  on ! 
Here 's  a  writ  I  got  ready  before  I  came,  —  a  writ  o£ 


MOTHER  CREWE'S  LAST  CURSE,  417 


ejectment  —  here,  go  you,  since  this  cursed  brute  won't 
let  me,  go  you  and  serve  it  on  her,  and  tell  her  that  at 
noon  to-morrow  I  shall  be  here  to  take  possession,  with 
men  enough  to  do  my  bidding,  and  that  by  one  hour 
after  noon  both  she  and  her  cabin  will  be  gone.  Tell 
her  that,  Henchman,  and  if  she  won't  open  her  door, 
make  her  hear  it  through  her  door,  but  see  that  she  gets 
the  writ.    I  '11  ride  on  and  cool  my  blood  a  little." 

"  That 's  the  best  thing  you  can  do,"  replied  Hench- 
man, a  good  deal  relieved;  and  when  he  overtook  his 
employer  just  at  the  Pilgrim  Spring  at  the  foot  of 
Spring  Lane,  he  reported,  cheerfully,  "  I  could  n't  get 
the  old  lady  to  open  the  door,  but  I  bawled  my  message 
in  at  the  crack,  and  shoved  the  writ  under  the  door, 
I  guess  she  '11  make  a  moonlight  flitting  of  it." 

"  Whatever  she  does,  see  that  you,  with  a  couple  of 
strong  laborers,  are  at  the  corner  of  the  wood-road  turn- 
ing up  to  her  hut  at  a  little  before  noon  to-morrow,"  said 
Howland,  sternly,  and  with  a  careless  nod  of  farewell 
turned  up  the  hill  to  the  Town  Square  and  so  home  to 
the  pleasant  old  house  where  he  had  dwelt  so  many 
prosperous  years. 

"  I  was  in  hopes  you 'd  give  it  up.  Squire,"  said  the 
bailiff  in  a  low  tone  as  the  next  day  his  employer  drew 
rein  at  the  spot  where  he  on  horseback  with  two  stalwart 
fellows  afoot  rested  in  the  shade  of  a  clump  of  scrub- 
oaks,  at  the  junction  of  the  Carver  road  and  the  wood- 
path  leading  steeply  up  the  hill  and  into  the  forest. 

I  never  give  up  anything,"  replied  Howland,  taking 
off  his  three-cornered  hat  and  wiping  his  crimson  fore- 
head. 

"  A  mortal  hot  day,"  suggested  Henchman,  lightly. 
"  That  old  witch  will  find  it  so,  for  I  'U  burn  her 


418    DR.  LeBARON  and  EIS  DAUGHTERS. 


hovel  over  her  head,  if  that the  only  way  to  get  hep 
out  of  it.    Come  !  " 

And  the  lover  of  land  rode  on,  his  mouth  set  in  a 
hard,  straight  line,  his  eyes  red  and  gloomy,  his  face 
flushed  darkly.  It  was  indeed  a  hot  day,  of  that  sti- 
fling and  breathless  quality  of  heat  which  conies  in  late 
summer  and  early  autumn,  the  dog-day  heat  so  rife  with 
disease  and  lassitude,  the  air  filled  with  a  sullen  yellow 
haze  that,  so  far  from  tempering  the  sun's  rays,  seemed 
to  refract  and  intensify  them  to  intolerable  power,  while 
not  a  breath  of  wind  lent  life  to  the  solid  strata  of  sti- 
fling woodland  odors  and  the  steam  of  the  saturated 
masses  of  undergrowth. 

"  The  bayberries  smell  like  folks  that 's  laid  out,"  re- 
marked one  of  the  workmen  who,  with  axe  on  shoulder, 
plodded  along  after  Henchman,  who  suddenly  turned  an 
angry  face  upon  him  and  hissed  out,  to  his  great  sur- 
prise, — 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  you  fool !  " 

But  the  Squire,  riding  silent  and  absorbed  at  the  head 
of  the  little  troop,  heard  nothing,  or  made  no  sign. 

Arrived  in  the  clearing.  Henchman  looked  anxiously 
at  the  hut,  hoping  to  see  some  sign  of  surrender  and 
vacation,  but  the  thin  column  of  peat-smoke  curled  up 
as  before,  the  door  was  close  shut,  and  nothing  had 
been  moved  or  altered. 

Closing  his  mouth  still  more  rigidly  Howland  rode  up 
to  the  door  and  struck  it  with  his  whip-handle,  not  now 
in  the  careless  and  impatient  fashion  of  yesterday,  but 
three  solemn  and  menacing  blows. 

Again  the  door  fell  open  at  his  summons,  and  upon 
the  threshold  stood  mother  Crewe,  with  Milcom  on  her 
shoulder.    For  a  moment  the  two  regarded  each  other 


MOTHER  CREWE'S  LAST  CURSE,  419 


silently,  and  the  thick  yellow  air  seemed  to  shut  down 
upon  them  like  a  pall. 

"  Well,  woman !  You  have  had  your  summons,  and 
yon  are  not  gone,"  said  Howland  at  length  in  a  sup- 
pressed voice,  whose  every  tone  told  of  the  wrath  and 
determination  kept  down  for  the  moment.  ) 

"  My  summons  !  'T  is  your  summons  that  is  in  the 
air,  man,  and  you  will  soon  be  gone.  The  shadow  is  at 
your  lips,  and  with  every  breath  you  draw  it  in." 

"  Enough,  enough  of  this  fool's  play !  "  burst  out  the 
man,  his  passion  bursting  bonds  as  the  spring  flood,  lip- 
ping for  a  while  at  the  barrier  that  seems  to  withstand 
it,  suddenly  raises  its  crest  and  with  one  wild  cry  of  de- 
fiance sweeps  away  the  strongest  work  of  man  as  it 
would  a  child's  toy  dam. 

"  For  God's  sake,  Squire,  control  yourself !  "  cried 
Henchman  at  last,  even  his  feeble  nature  stirred  to  hor- 
ror at  the  other's  frenzy.  "  Here,  we  '11  end  it  all ! 
Men,  pull  the  cabin  down  around  the  old  witch's  ears  ! 
You  've  warrant  for  it  —  here  goes  !  "  And  seated  as 
he  was  on  horseback  the  lawyer  sent  his  heel  against 
the  shutter  securing  the  window-place  and  drove  it  in. 
The  men  silently  obeyed  both  word  and  example,  the 
one  whirling  his  axe  around  his  head  and  making  a 
breach  in  the  chimney,  and  the  other  attacking  the  roof. 

Then  the  old  witch  once  more  raised  herself  to  that 
terrible  vigor  of  yesterday,  —  a  supernatural  vigor,  as 
those  who  saw  it  felt  and  shuddered. 

"  Wait !  Hold  your  hands,  you  hirelings,  while  I 
speak  to  your  master  !  Man  of  violence,  hear  me.  You 
have  been  warned,  you  have  had  a  night  for  penitence, 
you  had  dreams  —  yes,  I  see  them  in  your  eyes  now  — 
well,  in  spite  of  them,  in  spite  of  all,  you  persist  —  you 


420     DR.  LeBARON  and  his  DAUGHTERS. 


rush  on  your  own  destruction  —  the  shadow  is  darken- 
ing your  brain  and  heart,  but  still  you  persist  —  oh, 
man  —  one  word,  before  it  is  too  late  —  speak !  " 

She  raised  her  arm  high  above  her  head,  the  forefin- 
ger flickering  like  the  tongue  of  a  snake,  and  bursting 
with  a  fearful  gasp  the  weight  that  seemed  to  paralyze  his 
every  power,  Howland  cried  in  a  voice  so  hoarse  and 
agonized  as  to  be  almost  inarticulate  :  — 

"  Set  fire  to  it !  Burn  it !  Burn  the  witch  and  her 
house  together !  " 

"  Enough !  The  measure  is  filled  up,  running  over !  " 
cried  mother  Crewe  in  terrible  exultation.  "  Man !  I 
curse  you  living,  I  curse  you  dying,  I  curse  you  here,  I 
curse  you  hereafter  '*  —  But  why  repeat  the  awful  words 
at  sound  of  which  those  strong  men  shuddered,  and 
closing  their  ears  retreated,  leaving  the  cursor  and  the 
cursed  alone  in  that  strange  yellow  light,  that  looked 
and  felt  like  smouldering  fire.  Was  it  the  woman  or 
was  it  the  cat  that  induced  that  final  catastrophe,  none 
can  tell,  but  all  at  once,  and  when  the  foul  flood  of  curses 
was  at  its  height,  Milcom  sprang  from  his  mistress' 
shoulder  to  the  flank  of  the  irritable  horse,  already  un- 
easy in  the  memory  of  yesterday's  struggle,  and  so  drove 
him  out  of  his  senses  that,  with  a  wild  cry  and  a  bound 
of  mortal  terror,  he  broke  from  all  control,  and  darting 
down  the  steep  path  was  in  a  moment  lost  to  sight. 

They  followed  him  as  fast  as  they  could,  and  had  not 
far  to  follow,  for  at  the  sharp  turn  where  the  woodpath 
joined  the  road,  where  they  had  waited  for  him  a  brief 
half  hour  before,  they  came  upon  S'uth'ard  Howland 
lying  beneath  the  scrub-oaks,  like  a  man  wearied  with 
the  heat  of  the  day  and  turned  aside  to  seek  repose  %r 
a  little. 


MOTHER  CREWE'S  LAST  CURSE,  421 


The  lawyer  knelt  down,  looked  at  the  eyes,  laid  a 
hand  upon  the  heart,  held  a  hair  before  the  parted  lips  ; 
then  he  rose  with  a  white,  scared  face,  and  turned  to 
his  men. 

"  We  can't  put  him  on  a  horse.  Go  find  a  gate  — 
she  said  a  gate — 

"  There 's  a  gate  down  here  a  piece  into  the  doctor's 
woodlot,"  said  one  man,  edging  toward  the  road. 

"  Go  and  get  it,  and  mind  you  come  back  with  it. 
No,  stop,  you 'd  run  away  ;  1 11  go  with  you  —  come 
on!" 

And  so  the  dead  man  lay  there  alone  in  the  strange 
yellow  light,  when  down  the  road  hobbled  mother  Crewe, 
her  cat  gliding  beside  her,  her  staff  in  her  hand.  Be- 
side the  dead  man  she  paused  a  little  moment,  looking 
fixedly  at  his  face,  angry  in  its  rigidity  but  with  a 
ghastly  yellow  stealing  over  the  purple  flush  of  brow 
and  cheeks. 

Ay,  ay,  it  had  to  be,  man,  it  had  to  be,  and  we  shall 
meet  before  this  time  to-morrow.  Better  for  you  than 
me  then,  perhaps,  but  what  has  to  be  will  be,  for  me  as 
well  as  you.''  And  muttering  and  mowing,  the  old 
woman  and  her  cat  plunged  into  the  woods  and  were 
gone  before  the  men  returned,  bearing  the  gate  between 
them. 


CHAPTER  XLV, 


A  DAY  OF  TERROR. 

The  strange  yellow  light  and  sultry  murk  of  the  air, 
so  oppressive  in  its  earlier  hours,  steadily  increased  as 
the  day  drew  toward  night.  As  the  men,  bearing  their 
awful  load,  emerged  from  the  woods  into  the  open  coun- 
try, and  with  the  instinct  of  coast  people  turned  their 
eyes  toward  the  ocean  to  gather  its  augury  for  the  next 
few  hours,  they  saw  with  a  certain  terror  that  it  was 
closed  from  their  view,  not  by  fog  or  cloud,  but  by  a  sul- 
try glare  of  amber  light  like  nothing  they  had  ever  seen 
before,  while  darkness  to  be  felt  rather  than  seen 
gathered  around  them  more  deeply  at  every  step. 

"  Why,  what 's  the  matter  ?  cried  Henchman,  turn- 
ing back,  as  the  men  stumbled  and  almost  fell.  "  Can't 
you  walk  straight  ?  " 

What 's  the  matter  with  the  sun,  Mr.  Henchman  ?  " 
retorted  one  of  the  men.  "  He  looks  as  if  that  old  witch 
had  cursed  him,  too." 

"  Shut  up  your  head,  you  fool !  "  growled  the  agent 
in  angry  panic.  "Are  you  such  a  coward  as  to  be 
frightened  by  an  old  woman's  scolding  tongue  ?  " 

"  I 'm  frightened  of  God  Almighty  and  Judgment 
Day,  and  the  man 's  a  fool  who  is  n't,"  replied  the  man 
staunchly.  And  in  forty  year,  I  never  saw  a  sight  like 
yon."  And  resting  his  load  upon  his  knee,  he  pointed 
to  the  strange  yellow  veil  across  the  sea,  and  th«  sun 


A  DAY  OF  TERROR. 


423 


just  visible  through  the  murky  western  clouds,  hanging 
like  a  ball  of  tarnished  copper  above  an  earth  he  refused 
to  illuminate. 

"  Arid  hark  you  to  the  noise  out  yonder,"  said  the 
other  man  nodding  toward  the  sea.  "  Hear  them  voices 
kind  o'  softly  singing  to  theirselves  ?  That 's  mermaids, 
and  they  means  mischief." 

"  Fool !  It 's  the  surf  on  the  back  o'  the  beach,  and 
Manomet,"  snarled  Henchman.  "  Come  on,  while  there 's 
light  to  see  the  road  before  you." 

"Don't  be  quite  so  handy  with  your  *  fools,'  Hench- 
man !  Tell  us,  if  you  know  so  much,  what 's  going  to 
hender  our  seeing  the  road  afore  us  at  three  o'clock  of 
an  afternoon  in  October  ?  " 

And  the  two  men  looked  at  each  other,  yet  quickly 
koked  away,  for  the  lurid  light  made  each  man's  face 
terrible  to  his  neighbor. 

Henchman  opened  his  mouth  to  reply,  but  the  wind, 
coming  up  out  of  the  southwest  in  those  heavy  and 
weary  sighs  that  suggest  an  overborne  earth  yearning 
for  her  rest,  blew  aside  the  handkerchief  covering  the 
dead  man's  face,  and  showed  it  so  grewsome  in  that 
grewsome  light  that,  gasping  instead  of  speaking,  the 
agent  turned  and  hastened  down  the  steep  hill  toward 
tl.e  town,  the  bearers  and  their  load  following  as  fast  as 
they  could,  pausing  not  until  they  reached  the  dead 
man's  home,  and  laid  down  their  load  upon  the  table, 
where  he  had  eaten  a  hasty  meal  before  setting  forth 
upon  an  errand  so  fatal  in  its  sequel. 

A  slender  figure  cowered  timidly  in  the  corner  as  they 
entered,  and  would  have  flitted  past  unseen,  but  as  the 
light  of  a  candle  already  lighted  on  the  mantelshelf  fell 
upon  that  fearful  face,  a  cry,  terrible  because  it  was  so 


424  DR,  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


suppressed,  burst  from  the  girl's  white  lips,  and  she  fell 
heavily  into  the  arms  of  Abiah,  who  was  just  rushing  in 
at  the  door. 

"Oh,  Hannah!  Hannah!  What  is  it?  What  has 
happened?    Oh!"  — 

And  the  wife,  still  mechanically  grasping  the  uncon- 
scious form  of  the  girl,  glared  wildly  past  her  fallen 
head  at  the  sight  upon  the  table,  which  Henchman  was 
covering  from  her  sight. 

Neighbors  and  friends  came  thronging  in,  and  the 
kindly  sympathy  that  made  Old  Colony  folk  of  that  day 
like  one  family  was  tendered  fully  and  freely  ;  but  still 
all  minds  were  more  or  less  oppressed  with  a  panic  and 
a  foreboding  that  this  awful  calamity  seemed  rather  to 
intensify  than  cover.  Darkness  had  now  fully  fallen,  — 
a  darkness  so  intense  that  it  seemed  ponderous  and  pal- 
pable rather  than  the  mere  absence  of  light,  —  a  dark- 
ness through  which  struggled  no  light  of  moon  or  stars, 
but  into  whose  intensity  was  woven  strange  gleams  of 
phosphorescence  from  the  sea,  whose  waters  broke  in 
lines  of  glowing  fire  upon  the  beach,  while  out  of  its 
gleaming  distances  came  ever  and  anon  that  strange 
murmur,  those  moans  and  sighs  and  vague  melodies,  that 
the  old  sailor  had  recognized  as  the  songs  of  sirens.  As 
the  actual  night  drew  in,  the  darkness  deepened  in 
more  than  the  usual  ratio  of  night  to  day,  so  that  the 
obscurity  which,  in  the  hours  of  daylight,  had  been  fear- 
ful because  it  was  like  night,  became,  so  soon  as  it  was 
night,  yet  more  fearful  because  it  was  like  nothing  ever 
experienced  before  by  those  who  endured  it. 

The  Day  of  Judgment  has  come  !  was  the  cry  of  those 
who  believed,  and  non-believers  no  longer  scoffed  at  such 
possibilities,  but  gazed  upon  each  other  with  bewildered 


A  DAY  OF  TERROR. 


425 


and  anguished  doubt.  Parson  Robbins,  whose  wide 
reading  and  correspondence  told  him  that  such  phe- 
nomena  had  occurred  before,  and  were  attributed  to 
natural  causes,  whether  those  might  be  astral,  or  vol- 
canic, or  atmospheric,  or  merely  the  effect  of  vast  forest 
fires,  went  busily  from  house  to  house,  imparting  this 
information  to  his  people,  and  summoning  them  to  cou- 
rageous patience.  Finally,  however,  perceiving  that  he 
produced  about  as  much  effect  as  the  traveler  who  ex- 
plains the  philosophy  of  an  eclipse  to  a  tribe  of  Central 
Africans,  he  desisted,  and  when  one  man  interrupted 
him  with,  "  No  use  kicking  against  the  pricks,  Parson, 
nor  in  denyin'  the  power  of  an  angry  God  to  destroy  a 
wicked  world,"  he  suddenly  changed  his  base,  and  ex- 
claimed, "  You  are  right.  Brother  Foster,  and  since  the 
Day  of  Doom  is  at  hand,  it  behooves  us  sinners  to 
hasten  our  repentance,  and  bring  forth  works  meet  for 
acceptance.  Have  you  ever  paid  Widow  Doten  for  that 
cow  ? 

"  It  died  on  my  hands.  Parson ! "  expostulated  the 
deacon  in  a  whine  of  mingled  wrath  and  terror. 

"  You  had  owned  it  a  week,  and  if  you  are  about  to 
be  called  into  judgment — 

"  I  '11  pay  her,  Parson,  I  '11  pay  her !  Here,  I  '11  get 
out  the  money  now.  There,  there 's  twenty  good  silver 
dollars,  and  if  you  '11  come  along  with  me  I  '11  give  it 
to  her  this  minute.  It  won't  make  any  difference  to 
either  of  us  by  this  time  to-morrow." 

"  Yes,  it  will  make  a  great  difference  to  your  soul, 
brother." 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes.  Well,  come  along,  and  yet  —  don't 
it  look  a  little  mite  clearer  than  it  did  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  little  Ugliter  for  you,"  replied  the  parson. 


426   DR.  leBaron  and  his  daughters. 


significantly ;  and  the  Widow  Doten  received  her  money, 
but  left  it  lying  all  night  upon  the  floor,  where  she  had 
dropped  it  as  idle  dross.  In  the  morning,  however,  she 
picked  it  up,  for  at  sunrise  the  atmosphere  lightened  a 
little,  a  natural  redness  illuminated  the  east.  The  fowls, 
cattle,  domestic  creatures,  birds,  and  men,  each  class  led 
by  the  successive  slowness  of  its  intuitions  to  the  same 
certainty,  agreed  that  the  peril  was  over,  and  resumed 
their  usual  occupations.  The  widow  bestowed  her  dol- 
lars in  the  old  teapot  on  the  top  shelf  of  the  china- 
closet,  and  the  deacon  meditated  how  he  should  regain 
possession  of  them  either  as  a  loan,  an  investment,  or 
by  the  sale  of  some  unseasoned  swamp-wood,  which 
might,  by  a  little  "deaconing,"  be  made  to  pass  for 
sound  oak. 

Reuben  Butler,  up  toward  Carver,  too  busy,  too  tired, 
and  too  easy  in  his  conscience  to  have  been  much  fright- 
ened at  the  dark  evening  and  night,  was  glad  to  find  a 
promise  of  usual  weather  in  the  morning,  for  he  had 
promised  Mr.  Cotton,  out  on  the  Kingston  road,  a  load 
of  hay,  and  was  anxious  to  carry  it,  especially  as  he  had 
loaded  it  the  day  before,  and  wanted  the  cart  for  his 
own  stuvver-eorn. 

So,  in  the  gleam  of  that  promised  sunrise,  the  good 
fellow,  having  breakfasted  and  wiped  his  mouth  upon 
his  shirt-sleeve,  drove  out  of  the  yard  as  quickly  as 
Bright  and  White  Star  would  consent  to  travel,  but 
paused  at  the  cry  of  a  little  fellow  who  came  running 
down  the  road  after  him. 

"  Hullo,  Daddy's  man !  What  do  you  want  ?  "  de- 
manded he,  with  a  delighted  guffaw,  for  this  was  the 
only  child,  and  a  very  bright  one. 

"Me  want  yide  —  yide  on  hay,"  repUed  Daddy's 


A  DAY  OF  TERROR. 


427 


man,  lifting  chubby  arms  and  smiling  face  to  the  father, 
who  never  had  found  out  how  to  say  no. 

"  Want  to  yide  on  hay  ?  "  replied  he  now.  "  All 
right,  then.    Up  you  go  !  " 

And  with  a  strong  toss  he  threw  the  child  to  the  top 
of  the  load,  where  he  sprawled,  shouting  in  glee,  and 
kicking  his  chubby  heels  in  the  air. 

"  Does  ma'am  know  Daddy's  man  came  with  daddy?  " 
asked  Butler,  starting  on  the  oxen. 

"Ma'am  dorn  uppee  'tairs,"  replied  the  boy,  more 
gleefully  than  ever. 

"  Oh  !  Well,  may  be  she  '11  get  sca'at.  I  guess  you  'U 
have  to  run  back.  Daddy's  man,  'cause  poor  ma'am  will 
be  sca'at." 

But  Daddy's  man  knew  his  power,  and  calmly  reply- 
ing, "  Me  no  go  back,"  burrowed  deeper  into  the  hay, 
while  his  father  looked  anxiously  about  him.  The  lurid 
yellow  darkness  of  the  day  before  was  returning,  in 
strange  clouds  driven  up  from  the  southwest  before  a 
fitful  wind ;  the  faint  promise  of  the  east  was  blotted 
out,  and  the  sea  completely  hidden,  except  as  the  voices 
of  the  mermaids  told  where  it  lay ;  a  heavy  electric  and 
sulphurous  element  crept  into  the  air,  and  made  it  diffi- 
cult to  breathe. 

Butler  stopped  his  oxen,  and  getting  out  an  old  sail 
slung  under  the  hay-rigging,  shook  it  out,  and  throwing 
it  up  over  the  hay,  spoke  more  positively  than  he  ever 
had  done  before  to  the  petted  child. 

"  Daddy's  man,  you 've  got  to  get  down  and  run 
home,  anyway.  It's  getting  awful  dark,  and  there 
must  be  a  tempest  coming.  I  'U  cover  up  the  hay 
and  drive  along,  if  I  don't  get  no  farther  than  the  vil- 
lage before  it  bursts,  but  you  jump  down,  —  here,  slip 


428    DK  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS, 


right  down  into  daddy's  arms,  and  run  home  to  ma'am 
as  fast  as  ever  you  can.  It 's  going  to  thunder  and 
lighten,  and  rain  awful  hard  in  a  few  minutes." 

Daddy's  man,  not  a  littled  subdued  and  puzzled  by 
the  strange  look  of  the  familiar  objects  around  him, 
and  by  his  father's  unwonted  decision,  obeyed  without 
demur,  and  slipping  off  the  load  with  the  charming 
trustfulness  of  childhood,  was  received  in  the  paternal 
arms,  vigorously  kissed  and  set  upon  his  feet,  with  the 
injunction  to  run  home  just  as  fast  as  he  could,  to  the 
pleasant  old  red  farmhouse,  still  in  sight  at  the  top  of 
the  hill.  Seeing  him  set  off,  his  little  bare  feet  as  they 
fell,  spatting  up  the  dust  in  clouds,  the  farmer  turned  his 
attention  to  covering  his  hay,  the  oxen  trudging  along 
the  while,  guided  by  an  occasional  gee !  and  haw !  from 
their  master,  until,  his  task  finished,  he  sat  for  a  mo- 
ment upon  the  load,  and  looked  behind  him  ;  house  and 
child  had  both  disappeared  in  the  gathering  gloom,  and 
the  aspect  of  all  things  had  grown  more  abnormal  and 
terrifying.  From  some  springs  in  a  low-lying  meadow, 
beside  the  road,  masses  of  vapor  were  rising,  so  solid 
and  grotesque  of  shape,  that,  had  Reuben  Butler  ever 
heard  of  them,  would  surely  have  reminded  him  of  the 
genii  imprisoned  by  Solomon  in  copper  spheres ;  but  as 
he  never  had  so  much  as  heard  of  the  Thousand  and 
One  Tales  of  the  Arabian  Nights,  he  was  reminded  of 
nothing,  and  only  gazed  in  stolid  astonishment,  while 
the  clonds  rose,  the  first  one  to  a  great  height,  where  it 
rapidly  expanded  into  an  umbrella-shape,  and  became 
a  vivid  red  color  ;  a  second  cloud  following  at  a  short 
interval,  spread  itself  below  the  other,  and  was  colored 
blue  changing  with  green,  another  interval  and  then  a 
third,  densely  white  and  substantial,  arose  and  spread 


A  DAY  OF  TERROR. 


429 


itself  like  a  foundation  beneath  the  others,  all  three 
showing  for  a  few  moments  in  a  stupendous  pile  of 
brilliant  and  airy  architecture,  as  if  the  released  and 
triumphant  genii  had  built  themselves  a  palace  wherein 
to  dwell. 

But  this  magnificent  sight  endured  only  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  then  the  darkness  swept  in  with  appalling 
suddenness,  and  with  it  a  lashing  shower  of  rain,  of  such 
strange  smell  and  feel  that  even  the  stolid  young  far- 
mer became  vaguely  alarmed,  and  hurrying  on  to  the 
cross-roads,  turned  his  unwieldy  team  and  set  off  to- 
ward home,  wiping  that  slimy,  ill-savored  moisture  from 
his  face  and  goading  on  his  oxen,  who,  lowing  and  dis- 
tressed, seemed  eager  to  break  from  the  yoke  and  es- 
cape. 

But  at  the  gate  of  his  farmyard  Butler  met  his  wife, 
who  eagerly  demanded  :  — 

"  Have  you  got  the  child,  Reuben  ?  Good  land ! 
What 's  the  matter  with  your  face  ?  It 's  as  black  as  a 
nigger's ! " 

"  The  child !  Has  n't  he  got  home  ?  cried  the 
father,  mechanically  wiping  his  face,  blackened  by  that 
sooty  and  sulphurous  rain. 

And  even  while  they  spoke,  the  darkness  of  that  fear- 
ful Dark  Day  shut  down  so  suddenly  and  so  entirely 
that  although  the  woman,  stumbling  back  to  the  house, 
lighted  candles  and  set  them  in  every  window,  to  guide 
the  child  if  he  should  be  seeking  his  home,  her  hus- 
band, who  had  paused  to  unyoke  and  turn  his  cattle 
loose,  and  shut  the  barn-door  against  the  level  sheets  of 
rain,  could  not  distinguish  their  light,  and  only  reached 
the  house  after  long  search  by  groping  along  the  fence 
like  a  blind  man. 


430  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


And  Daddy's  man,  whom  we  left  spatting  through 
the  soft  dust  with  little  bare  feet,  half  frightened,  half 
delighted  with  the  novel  aspect  of  affairs  ?  Just  out  of 
his  father's  sight  he  espied  some  ripe  blackberries  lin- 
gering in  a  sheltered  nook,  and  turning  aside  to  secure 
them,  the  little  fellow  spent  a  precious  fifteen  minutes 
at  his  feast,  and  before  it  was  over  was  startled  by  the 
rain  and  the  utter  darkness.  Scrambling  back  into  the 
road  he  began  to  run,  but  alas !  in  the  wrong  direction, 
and  striking  into  a  loop-road,  passed  his  father  at  a 
distance  of  not  more  than  twenty  rods,  struck  again 
into  the  main  road  just  below  that  open  space  where 
Butler  had  turned  his  team,  and  hurried  on  toward  the 
town,  while  his  father  was  hastening  home. 

Just  in  the  entrance  of  Plymouth  village,  the  poor 
little  one  met  a  man,  who,  having  children  of  his  own, 
stopped  him  and  asked  his  name. 

"  Daddy's  man,"  was  the  reply. 

"  But  where 's  daddy  ?  " 
Daddy  let  me  yide  on  hay." 

"  Yes,  but  do  you  know  where  he  is  ?  Can  you  get 
to  him  by  yourself  ?  " 

"  Daddy's  man  go  to  daddy." 

And  breaking  away  from  the  dubious  grasp  of  the 
other's  hand,  the  child  ran  on,  straight  through  Plym- 
outh town,  past  all  those  safe  chimney  -  nooks  where 
little  children  sheltered  from  the  terror  of  the  Dark 
Day  in  their  mother's  arms ;  past  the  doors  where  the 
fathers  of  Plymouth  anxiously  considered  the  signs  of 
the  times,  and  meditated  with  the  naive  self-importance 
of  Calvinism  as  to  which  of  their  personal  or  municipal 
•ins  had  brought  down  this  chastisement  upon  the  earth. 

Yes,  and  past  that  smitten  home  where  S'uth'ard 


A  DAY  OF  TERROR. 


431 


Howland  lay  dead,  with  Abiah,  his  wife,  weeping  over 
him,  and  yet  casting  terrified  glances  at  the  windows 
black  at  noon  with  the  darkness  of  midnight,  and  half 
listening  to  the  whimpering  of  the  children  hiding  at  her 
feet  and  in  her  lap ;  the  home  where  Hannah  Howland, 
who  only  yesterday  morning  had  heard  the  news  of 
her  dear  brother  Consider's  shipwreck  and  death,  and 
before  night  had  met  the  bearers  bringing  in  the  body 
of  her  other  brother,  now  lay  white  and  still  upon  her 
bed  in  the  little  gable-bedroom,  knowing  nothing,  caring 
nothing  for  the  terrors  of  the  Dark  Day,  because  her 
own  young  days  were  forever  darkened,  and  become 
"  as  a  post  thast  hasteth  by,"  and  as  a  bird  whose  light 
wings  cleave  the  air  and  are  gone. 

Through  the  town  and  out  upon  the  Kingston  road, 
the  poor  child  ran,  and  on  and  on,  mile  after  mile 
through  the  darkness  and  the  rain  and  the  wild  terror 
that  convulsed  the  baby  heart,  and  still  through  the  pow- 
ers of  the  tempest  or  the  more  terrible  silences  that  fell 
between,  the  weak  plaintive  voice  rose,  l)roken  with  sobs 
and  faint  with  terror  and  exhaustion :  — 

"  Daddy's  man  wants  daddy !  "  and  "  Daddy  take 
Daddy's  man  home  to  mammy !  " 

On  and  on,  more  miles  than  one  would  dare  to  invent, 
for  the  story  is  a  true  one,  that  poor  baby  strayed,  and 
by  some  strange  chance  came  within  hearing  of  no  mor- 
tal ears,  until  toward  night  a  voice  from  out  the  dark' 
ness  called  to  him  :  — 

"  Come  here  !    Come  to  me !    Here !  " 

And  the  poor  baby,  too  weary  and  too  frightened  to 
be  shy,  fell  into  that  strange  embrace,  and  in  a  moment 
to  sleep,  whispering  as  his  eyelids  closed :  — 

"  Daddy's  man  wants  mammy !  " 


432   DR  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


With  that  second  night  the  terror  of  darkness  passed, 
and  the  next  day  a  red  and  blear-eyed  sun  gazed 
drowsily  upon  the  world  from  among  copper-colored 
clouds ;  the  birds  and  fowls  awoke  from  their  four-and- 
twenty  hours  of  roosting ;  the  cows,  who  had  come  low- 
ing home  to  be  milked  before  noon  on  the  previous  day, 
calmly  betook  themselves  again  to  their  meadows  ;  men 
began  to  explain  the  late  phenomena,  to  forget  their 
late  terrors,  to  doubt  and  deny  nearly  all  that  had 
passed,  and  to  resume  their  old  follies  and  wickedness. 
In  short,  human  nature,  subdued  for  a  while  before  the 
mighty  power  of  God's  Nature,  reasserted  itself,  and 
went  on  in  its  accustomed  fashion. 

With  the  earliest  dawn,  a  haggard  and  well-nigh 
crazed  couple,  man  and  woman,  came  riding  into  Plym. 
outh  upon  one  horse,  and  straight  to  Parson  Robbins' 
house.  They  were  Reuben  and  Sally  Butler,  seeking 
for  their  child,  and  they  knew  the  parson  to  be  at  once 
the  wisest,  the  kindest,  and  the  most  influential  man  in 
the  town  ;  and  they  were  justified,  for,  pausing  only  long 
enough  to  jot  down  his  thermal  observations  of  the 
Dark  Day,  and  to  lock  up  the  sheets  of  paper  he  had 
laid  out  in  the  rain,  and  was  now  drying  before  the  fire 
previous  to  examining  them  under  the  microscope,  the 
parson,  leaving  his  wife  to  persuade  the  heart-stricken 
pair  to  drink  at  least  a  good  cup  of  coffee,  if  they  could 
not  eat,  went  out  and  raised  a  search-party,  which,  fol- 
lowing the  slight  clue  given  by  the  child's  departure 
when  the  too  easy  townsman  had  allowed  him  to  run 
on  after  daddy's  haycart,  passed  down  the  Kingston 
road,  beat  the  woods,  inquired  at  every  house,  and  so 
worked  on  toward  Plympton. 

Bo's'n,  the  great  mastiff  who  guarded  the  farmer's 


A  DAY  OF  TERROR. 


433 


homestead  and  was  the  child's  favorite  playfellow,  was 
one  of  the  party,  and  knew  as  well  as  any  member  of  it 
for  whom  he  was  seeking ;  and  he  it  was  who,  at  the 
last,  when,  faint  and  weary,  the  men  began  to  look  at 
each  other  and  speak  of  "  having  to  give  it  up,''  he  it 
was  who,  growling  savagely  at  their  speech,  trotted  off, 
put  his  nose  to  the  ground,  whimpered  impatiently,  flew 
into  the  bushes,  out  again  into  the  road,  circled  round 
always  with  his  nose  to  the  ground,  cried  out  a  note  of 
interrogation,  glanced  at  his  master  as  much  as  to 
say,  "  Follow  me,  and  let  these  fools  do  as  they  like !  " 
and  finally,  picking  up  the  scent  again,  led  the  way  up  a 
grassy  lane  and  bounded  over  a  low  wall,  at  sight  of 
which  the  men  turned  superstitious  and  said :  — 

'  T  is  Plympton  churchyard  !  He  means  to  say  the 
child  is  dead  !  "  And  as  if  to  point  their  terrors,  a  ter- 
rific screech  arose  upon  the  air,  a  yell  of  pain  and  rage 
from  the  dog,  the  noise  of  a  scuffling  combat,  and  the 
faint  wailing  of  a  baby  voice. 

"  The  child  !  "  screamed  Sally,  and  slid  from  behind 
her  husband  to  the  ground  and  was  over  the  wall  in  a 
minute.  The  men  followed,  afraid,  but  yet  ashamed  to 
be  outdone  by  a  woman,  and  presently  came  upon  Bo's'n 
in  mortal  combat  with  a  fierce  black  creature  which 
some  of  the  party  took  for  the  devil  and  some  for  a 
catamount.  The  men,  absorbed  in  a  fight,  saw  noth- 
ing more,  but  the  woman,  to  whom  creation  was  but  a 
detail  in  the  search  for  her  boy,  flew  past  the  struggling 
creatures  and  seized  him  where  he  lay,  weak  and  white 
but  alive,  in  the  arms  of  a  poor  skeleton  covered  with 
skin  and  wrapped  in  an  old  red  cloak. 

Daddy's  man  want  mammy  !  "  whispered  the  little 
fellow,  and  curling  his  arm  around  his  mother's  neck. 


434    DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


laid  his  head  upon  her  shoulder  and  watched  with  the 
apathy  of  a  sick  child  the  rush  of  the  men  toward  him 
and  the  last  furious  struggle  of  the  beasts,  resulting  in 
the  cat  tearing  herself  away  from  the  jaws  of  the  dog 
and  fleeing  to  the  woods,  where  she  may  yet  be  alive 
for  any  testimony  to  the  contrary. 

"  It 's  mother  Crewe,  and  this  is  BathsAeby's  grave," 
said  a  Plympton  man  at  last  when  all  had  gathered 
about  the  poor  effigy  so  mute  and  so  harmless  in  their 
midst. 

"Then  that  was  Milker,  her  black  cat,  that  she 
cursed  folks  with,"  faltered  another,  staring  into  the 
woods. 

"  And  she  stole  my  boy !  "  exclaimed  the  father  in 
slow  fierce  wrath,  but  the  quicker-witted  woman  inter- 
posed. 

"  No  she  did  n't,  she  saved  him.    See  these  leaves  in 
his  hand,  and  his  little  tier  is  stained  with  berries.  She 
found  him  and  was  good  to  him.    Say,  baby,  did  the 
old  woman  give  you  the  berries  and  the  sas'fras  ?  " 
Ess,  and  divved  me  water." 

"  And  she  was  good  to  you,  wasn't  she,  darling  ?  " 

"  Ess.    S'e  singed,  and  Daddy's  man  wen'  by-by." 

"  She  fed  him,  and  sung  him  to  sleep  in  her  arms. 
Men,  bury  her  in  her  daughter's  grave  for  the  sake  of 
your  own  mothers  and  of  this  dear  child  whose  life  she 
saved." 

So  spoke  the  woman,  and  was  obeyed,  so  that  in  her 
death  mother  Crewe  was  more  honored  than  in  her  life. 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 

PHAIRO  !  PHAIRO  !  PHAIRO  ! 

The  Dark  Day  was  a  memory  of  the  past,  the  dark 
day  of  the  Revolution  was  over,  and  many  changes,  his- 
torical, social,  and  personal,  had  passed  over  Plymouth, 
when  one  fine  morning,  Pompey,  once  the  slave  of  Gen- 
eral Goodwin,  whose  new  uniform  he  had  so  discreetly 
admired,  but  now  a  freeman  living  near  Eel  River  and 
supporting  himself  by  capturing  its  denizens  and  selling 
them  in  town,  trudged  past  his  late  master's  house  with 
his  bag  upon  his  back,  and  was  hailed  by  the  General's 
brother  William,  recently  married  to  Lydia,  daughter 
of  Captain  Simeon  Samson,  and  a  little  over-glorious  in 
his  new  dignities,  or  so  the  old  man  who  had  known  him 
as  a  baby  fancied. 

"  Hullo,  Pomp  !  What  have  you  in  your  bag,  you  old 
villain  ?    Anything  I  can  make  use  of  at  my  house  ?  " 

"  Nuf 'n.  mas'r  Billy,  nuf 'n  but  what  you  '11  have 
plenty  of  to  you  house  'fore  long,  nuf 'n  but  rheumatiz 
an'  poberty." 

William  was  still  laughing  at  the  retort  when  hi? 
brother  appeared  at  the  door,  and  politely  saluting  his 
former  servant,  inquired  :  — 

"  Any  eels  to-day,  Pompey  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mas'  Gen'l,  got  some  berry  fine  ones.  Tek' 
'em  roun'  to  de  kitch'n  door,  mas'r  ?  " 

"  Yes,  a  dozen  of  them.    Here 's  a  shilling,  Pom 

pey-" 


486    DR.  LeBARON  and  his  DAUGHTERS, 


"  'Sense  me,  mas'r,  but  dat  on'y  pays  f er  half  dozen. 
Dey 's  two  shillin'  a  dozen  dis  mawnin." 

"  Two  shillings,  you  rascal !  Why  you  never  pre^ 
tended  to  charge  more  than  one  shilling  a  dozen  be- 
fore !  "  exclaimed  the  general,  indignantly. 

"  I  knows  it,  mas'r,  I  knows  it  berry  well,  but  dey 
won'  let  me  no  more." 

"  They  won't  let  you  !  Who  won't  let  you,  Pomp  ?  " 
demanded  Mr.  Goodwin,  who  had  never  heard  of  a 
"  trust." 

"Well,  I'll  tell  yo,'  mas'r,  on'y  I  don'  wan'  mas' 
Billy  sniggering  away,  like  I  was  n'  a  free  nigger." 

"  Shut  up.  Bill.    Well  how  was  it,  Pomp  ?  " 

"  W'y,  mas'r,  it  was  jes'  dis  way.  'Bout  sun-up  dis 
mawnin  I  went  down  to  de  pots,  an'  sure  'nough  dere 
was  'bout  four  dozen  lubly  fat  eel,  an'  I  says,  *Now, 
nigger,  dere 's  t'ree  shillin'  an'  half  safe  in  you'  pouch,  an' 
you 's  a-gwine  pay  for  dem  new  closes  right  straight  off, 
on'y  dey  is  six  shillin',  an'  how  de  debbil  is  you  gwine 
fer  ter  stretch  t'ree  shillin'  into  six  shillin'  ?  Well,  I 
h'ist  de  bag  outer  my  shoulder,  an'  I  sot  out  down  de 
road,  alluz  a-cunjurin'  an'  a-cunjurin'  how  t'ree  shillin' 
was  gwine  ter  stretch  ober  six  shillin'  worth  o'  breeches, 
w'en  des  as  I  come  by  dat  woodsey  spot  down  'crost 
de  brook,  de  pooties'  leetly  bird  eber  you  see,  he  come 
flyin'  along,  same  as  if  he 'd  come  right  out  o'  heben, 
an'  he  lit  on  a  teenty-tonty  lil'  twig  dat  sent  him  teet- 
erin'  up  an'  down,  up  an'  down,  an'  he  sung  it  right 
out,  dis-a-way,  '  E-e-ly,  e-e-ly,  Pompey,  e-e-ly  !  Sell  oo 
eely  one-a-shillin'  two-a-shillin' ! '  " 

And  in  the  rich  guttural  notes  of  the  negro  voice  the 
old  fellow  warbled  out  the  song-sparrow's  cadence  in 
the  words  that  certainly  seemed  to  fit  it  as  admirably 


PEAIRO !  PHAIRO  !  PUAIRO  !  437 


as  if  they  had  been  composed  for  it,  as  indeed  they 
had. 

The  Goodwins  laughed,  and  the  general,  taking  an- 
other coin  from  his  pocket,  tossed  it  to  the  old  roman- 
cist  saying :  — 

"  Here,  Pomp,  here  you  are !  One  shilling  for  a  dozen 
eels,  and  one  shilling  for  the  best  lie  I  Ve  heard  to-day." 

"  I  t'out  you  and  mas'  Billy  was  a-talkin'  w'en  I 
come  along,"  retorted  Pompey,  catching  the  coin  in  one 
black  paw ;  and  then  as  if  afraid  he  had  gone  too  far, 
continued  in  a  very  plaintive  voice  :  "  'Pears  like  you 
wus  alluz  a-doin'  sumfin  for  dis  pore  chile,  mas'  Gineral. 
On'y  last  monf  we  had  dat  elegan'  fun'al  fur  poor  ole 
ma'am  Phyllis." 

"  She  was  your  own  mother,  you  heathen,'*  interposed 
William,  indignantly. 

"I  know  she  wuz,  mas'  Billy,  leas' ways  ole  mas'r 
said  she  wuz,  an'  I 's  boun'  to  b'lieve  him ;  but  den  you 
see,  mas'r,  I  ain't  ben  free  long  'nough  ter  take  up  all 
de  w'ite  folks'  notions,  an'  w'en  we  was  slaves  it  wa'n't 
no  great  'count  'bout  mudders  and  faders,  we  wus  ole 
niggers  an'  lil'  niggers,  an'  I  ain't  got  in  de  way  o* 
much  else,  not  yit." 

"  Well,  you  're  free  now,  Pompey,  and  if  you  're  not 
white  it 's  because  the  Lord  made  you  black,  and  we 
can't  help  it." 

"  No,  mas'  Gin'al,  you  can'  help  it,  an'  I  can'  help  it," 
replied  Pompey,  slowly ;  but  suddenly  brightening,  he 
hoisted  his  bag  of  eels  upon  his  shoulders,  and  touching 
his  brimless  hat,  made  toward  the  kitchen  door,  saying : 
"  But  dat  wus  mos'  an  elegan'  fun'al,  mas'  Gin'al,  dat 
yo'  make  for  my  ole  madder  Phyllis.  Ra'al  coffin,  wid 
shiny  nails,  an'  she  a-layin'  out  in  de  big  front  parlor,  in 


438  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


a  layloc  caliker,  as  smart  as  mustard.  Cur'us  dat  w'en 
she  was  alive  she  would  n'  a  ben  ask'  to  set  down  in  dat 
room,  an'  w'en  she  was  dead  she  c'd  lay  dere,  stretch 
out  full  len'th,  an'  all  de  w'ite  folks  takin'  off  dey  hats 
to  her !  Kin'  o'  cur'us,  but 't  was  a  elegan'  f  un'al,  t'ank 
you,  mas'r." 

He  disappeared  around  the  corner  as  he  spoke,  and 
the  brothers  looked  at  each  other  rather  dubiously. 

"  Pompey 's  no  man's  fool,"  remarked  the  elder,  at 
length,  and  they  parted  with  a  laugh. 

As  it  chanced,  that  very  afternoon,  Priscilla  Ham- 
matt,  tying  her  summer  hood  over  her  comely  head, 
and  taking  a  covered  basket  in  one  hand  and  a  bunch 
of  white  lilies  in  the  other,  set  forth  for  a  visit  to  her 
old  friend  Quasho,  now  living  in  a  little  cabin  of  his 
own,  near  New  Guinea,  a  settlement  of  manumitted 
blacks  a  little  west  of  the  town.  Willy,  her  oldest  son 
and  favorite  companion,  capered  along  at  her  side. 

"  What 's  in  the  basket,  mamma  ?  "  asked  he,  peeping 
and  sniffing. 

"  Some  goodies  for  poor  uncle  Quash,  who  is  sick." 
"  I  smell  ginger-cake." 

"  Yes,  extra  sweet  and  gingery.  Too  good  for  little 
boys." 

And  the  mother  turned  a  fond  smile  upon  the  little 
fellow,  who  grinned  appreciatively  as  he  replied,  — 

"Yes,  bread  and  milk,  and  early  to  bed,  and  cold 
baths,  that 's  what  makes  boys  grow  strong  and  hardy." 

"  I 'm  glad  you  've  learned  your  lesson  so  well,  sir, 
but  you  must  n't  mimic  mamma." 

"  I  did  n't  —  no,  I  mean  I  won't  again.  And  are  the 
posies  for  uncle  Quash,  mamma  ?  " 

"  No,  dear,  the  posies  are  for  dear  aunt  Nan." 


PHAIRO!  PHAIRO!  PHAIRO! 


439 


And  Willy,  suddenly  quiet,  turned  with  his  mother  up 
through  the  alley  between  the  old  LeBaron  house  and 
that  of  James  Hovey,  brother  of  Parson  Hovey  and 
father  of  Abiah  Rowland.  Mr.  Hovey  himself  was  now 
dead,  and  the  estate  was  bought  by  J oshua  Thomas,  but 
the  alley  remained,  as  it  does  to  this  day,  and  then,  as 
now,  afforded  a  short  and  direct  path  to  Burying  Hill. 

"  Does  aunt  Nan  know  that  you  bring  flowers  to  her, 
mamma  ?  "  asked  the  boy,  as  the  two  breasted  the  hill 
and  stood  for  a  moment  to  breathe,  just  where  now  lie 
the  graves  of  William  Goodwin  and  Lydia,  his  wife, 
and  her  heroic  father,  Captain  Simeon  Samson. 

"No,  darling,  aunt  Nan  is  not  there;  she  is  in 
heaven  —  and  yet  —  love  strong  and  faithful  as  ours 
cannot  die ;  perhaps  it  makes  a  bridge  that  spirit  f  eefc 
can  tread ;  perhaps  you  know  it,  darling." 

Willy  knew  that  his  mother  did  not  speak  to  him,  and 
made  no  reply,  except  a  wistful  upward  look,  and  the 
two  passed  on  through  the  short  brown  grass,  past  the 
graves  where  Gideon  White  and  Joanna  Howland,  his 
wife,  lay  at  peace.  He,  happy  in  that  he  had  at  last 
entered  into  a  kingdom  which  no  revolution  can  ever 
convert  into  a  republic,  and  she  content  that  her  bones 
lie  in  Burying  Hill,  and  not  like  those  of  her  sister 
Winslow,  in  an  alien  soil. 

Close  behind  the  mendacious  monument  to  John  How- 
land  the  Pilgrim,  his  great-grandson  Consider  had  been 
laid  to  rest,  and  near  his  stone  and  that  of  his  wife  their 
daughter's  grave  had  been  made,  as  if  even  in  death 
they  would  shelter  and  love  her.  A  new  stone,  not 
mossed  as  now,  but  fresh  from  the  graver's  hand,  had 
recently  been  set,  and  while  Priscilla  laid  her  lilies 
above  the  maiden's  breast,  Willy,  who  had  not  seen  it, 


440    DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


threw  himself  upon  his  knees  and  spelt  out  the  inscrip- 
tion :  — 

**  Sic  transit  gloria  mundi. 

To  THE  Memory  of 
Miss  Hannah  Rowland, 
Who  Died  of  a  Languishmbnt, 
Jan.  25,  1780. 

For  us  they  languish,  and  for  us  they  die. 

And  shall  they  languish,  shall  they  die  in  vain  I  " 

"  What  does  the  poetry  mean,  mamma  ?  And  those 
words  over  the  top  —  Sic  transit ^  and  the  rest  of  it  ? 

"  That  is  Latin,  my  darling,  and  means  that  she  was 
too  beautiful  and  too  sweet  for  this  poor  earth,  so  passed 
to  heaven.  That  is  what  Parson  Robbins  told  me.  He 
made  it,  and  so  he  did  the  poetry." 

"  And  what  does  that  mean  ?  "  persisted  the  boy. 

"I  can  hardly  make  you  understand,  Willy.  Only 
you  know  that  Christ  died  for  you,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  In  the  Catechism  ?  " 

"  That  tells  about  it,  but  as  you  grow  up  and  have 
your  own  sorrows,  my  poor  lamb,  you  will  learn  a  great 
deal  more  about  it  than  the  Catechism  can  teach.  But, 
because  He  died,  and  so,  by  his  own  innocent  suffering, 
saved  us  all  from  hell,  so  good  people  —  his  elect,  as 
they  are  called  —  can,  by  their  own  sufferings  and 
prayers,  join  themselves  to  his  Merits,  and  gain  pardon 
in  some  degree  for  those  they  love.  Aunt  Nan  was 
good  —  nobody  could  have  been  better,  I  believe,  and 
she  suffered  much,  and  some  of  her  kin  died  as  if  by  a 
judgment,  and  that  made  her  so  sorry  that  she  mourned 
herself  to  death,  and  the  parson  said  she  died  like  a 
lamb  of  sacrifice,  so  he  wrote  that.  You  don't  under- 
stand much  about  it,  do  you,  Willy  ? 


PHAIRO !  PHAIRO  !  PHAIRO  !  441 


"Not  much,  mamma,  but  I  loved  aunt  Nan  dearly, 
and  I  love  you,  but  "  — 
"  But  what,  Willy  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  I  love  God,  if  He  wants  people  to  kill 
themselves  with  crying  about  other  people's  being 
naughty.    Does  n't  He  love  anybody  ?  " 

"Oh,  child,  child,  hush  this  minute!  Why,  Willy, 
it 's  awful  to  talk  that  way,  and  the  ground  might  open 
and  swallow  you  up  alive.    I 'm  really  frightened." 

Willy  regarded  the  ground  under  his  feet,  found  that 
it  still  seemed  pretty  solid,  looked  up  at  the  blue  sky, 
full  of  summer  sunshine,  and  at  last  fixed  his  serious 
eyes  upon  his  mother's  face,  really  pale  with  horror. 

"  Don't  look  so  scared,  mother.  I  don't  believe  God 
heard  that  time,  and  I  won't  talk  about  Him  any  more." 

Truly,  it  must  have  been  very  difficult  for  staunch 
Calvinistic  mothers  to  teach  their  boys  about  spiritual 
things  without  converting  them  either  into  rebels  or 
cowards. 

Silent  and  puzzled,  Priscilla  walked  on  past  the  graves 
of  her  grandfather  the  nameless  nobleman,  and  Mary, 
his  tardily  faithful  wife ;  past  the  grave  of  Elder  Cush- 
man,  and  the  still  plainly-defined  site  of  the  fort  Myles 
Standish  had  commanded  and  loved  so  well ;  down  the 
hill  and  Spring  Lane,  and  up  the  Carver  road  until, 
coming  to  the  house  of  William  Fallowell,  she  turned 
*  south  into  the  old  Indian  trail,  and  so  came  at  last  to  a 
cluster  of  cabins  occupied  mostly  by  the  manumitted 
slaves  of  Plymouth,  nearly  all  of  whom  chose  liberty 
with  poverty  and  discomfort,  to  the  mildest  slavery  that 
ever  existed.  Raising  the  latch  of  one  of  these  doors, 
Mrs.  Hammatt  walked  in  at  once,  but  stood  for  a  mo- 
ment dazed  by  the  sudden  transition  from  brilliant  sun- 
light to  smoky  darkness. 


442  DR,  lebaron  and  his  daughters. 


"  Dat  you,  Mis'  Pris  ?  And  liF  mas'r  BiUy !  You  '» 
welcome,  chil'n,  welcome  as  de  flowers  in  May,  dat  you 
looks  like,  Mis'  Prissy,  my  dear." 

"Why,  uncle  Quash!  Are  you  in  bed?  Are  you 
sick  ?  Here,  let  me  open  the  door  and  get  some  light. 
What 's  the  matter,  uncle  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Mis'  Pris,  it 's  de  grasshoppers  —  de  grass- 
hoppers dat 's  a  burden.  De  pore  ole  man 's  a-goin', 
a-goin'  fas'.  Mas'r  be  right  glad  to  see  his  ole  nigger, 
dough  I  don'  s'pose  he  want  his  queue  tied ;  but  dere  '11 
be  somefin,  somefin  fer  ole  Quash  ter  do  fer  mas'r. 
Tears  like  'twould  n't  be  hebben  if  dere  was  n't." 

"  Mamma 's  made  you  some  gingerbread,  extra  sweet 
and  gingery,  uncle  Quash,"  said  Willy  gently,  as  he 
crept  close  up  to  the  pillow  of  the  old  man,  whom  Pris- 
cilla  was  shocked  to  see  looking  so  changed. 

"  Dat  jes'  like  yo'  mammy,  mas'r  Billy,  an'  shore 
'nough  you 's  gwine  ter  tek  after  her.  Eber  sence  she 
wuz  a  lilly  white  pooty  missy  wi'  yaller  curls  all  down 
her  back,  she  ben  good  to  ole  Quash  and  all  de  rest  ob 
de  folks  like  him  :  de  sick,  an'  de  ole,  an'  de  helpless,  an' 
dem  dat  bed  no  frien's,  dem 's  de  folks  my  Mis'  Pris 
alluz  was  runnin'  arter,  w'ile  de  spruce  young  fellers 
was  a-runnin'  arter  her." 

"  Here,  uncle  Quash,  open  your  mouth  and  take  this 
jelly.  It 's  calves'  foot  and  has  some  good  old  port  in 
it.  There,  another  spoonful !  Now  don't  you  feel  a 
little  stronger  ?  " 

"  Shore  'nough  I  does.  Mis'  Pris  1  Dere 's  a  kin'  o' 
savin'  grace  in  port  wine  jelly,  but  I  nebber  got  much 
ob  it  'cept  w'en  my  young  mist'esses  got  married. 
How 's  Miss  Betsey,  Mis'  Prissy,  my  dear  ?  " 

"Very  well,  Quasho.  Mr.  Robbins  was  here  the 
other  day  from  Norfolk,  and  they  have  another  baby." 


PHAIRO  !  PHAIRO !  PHAIRO  ! 


443 


"  Since  lir  mas'r  Tommy  Robbins  ? 

"  Yes.  This  one  is  called  Francis  LeBaron,  after  mj 
dear  brother,  you  know." 

"  Yes,  —  wonder  ef  I  '11  meet  up  wid  mas'r  Frank  in 
de  oder  worl',  an'  ef  he  '11  ask  fer  de  key  o'  de  apple- 
house  ?  " 

"  YoH  're  not  going  to  the  other  world  just  yet,  uncle 
Quash,  don't  you  think  it !  Why,  what  should  I  do, 
with  all  my  dear  old  home  broken  up  and  gone !  " 

And  as  the  young  woman  laid  her  white  and  dimpled 
hand  upon  the  old  man's  forehead  and  bent  lovingly 
over  him  he  opened  his  eyes,  those  piteous  umber-colored 
eyes  that  make  a  sick  negro  look  so  very  sick,  and  whis- 
pered :  — 

"  Sen'  mas'r  Billy  out  de  door,  Mis'  Pris." 

"  Run  away,  darling,  and  wait  for  mamma  outside. 
Go  and  see  Chloe's  children  if  you  like,  and  give  them 
these  ground-nuts." 

The  child,  glad,  perhaps,  to  get  out  of  the  dark  and 
pain-infected  atmosphere,  went  out,  closing  the  door 
after  him,  and  Priscilla,  moistening  her  poor  old  ser- 
vant's lips  with  some  lemonade  she  had  been  making, 
asked  soothingly  :  — 

"  What  is  it.  Quash  ?    What  have  you  to  tell  me  ?  " 

"  Mis'  Prissy,  my  dear,  I 's  got  my  warning.  I 's  got 
it  shore." 

"  A  warning.  Quash  ?    What  sort  of  a  warning  ?  " 

"  Las'  night  it  was  so  hot  an'  clost  dat  I  could  n' 
sleep,  nor  yet  I  could  n'  wake.  Mas'r  was  roun',  and 
Phyllis,  an'  ole  mist's  your  mammy.  Mis'  Pris,  an' 
mas'r  Frank,  —  oh,  de  ole  shanty  was  chock  full  o'  white 
folks  an'  sarvents  "  — 

"  You  were  feverish,  uncle  Quash,  and  dreamed,  — 


444  DR,  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


that  was  all !  "  interrupted  Priscilla,  soothingly.  Qdiasho 
closed  his  eyes  wearily,  waited  till  she  had  done,  and 
continued  in  exactly  the  same  tone. 

"  An'  dat  Cal'line  woman  dat  mas'r  make  me  merry 
'cause  she 'd  got  a  baby,  she  was  here,  —  like  her  impe- 
rent,  low-live  manners  comin'  in  'long  o'  de  w'ite  folks  — 
an'  all  to  wonst  dere  by  de  window  or  des  outside  some 
one  set  up  a-hollerin',  '  Phair-o !  Phair-o !  Phair-o  ! '  an' 
mas'r  he  turn  'roun'  an'  beckoned  me  wid  he  forefinger 
des  the  way  he  use  ter,  an'  went  out,  and  den  it  hollered 
ag'in  '  Phairo !  Phairo  ! '  an'  all  de  res'  ob  'em  dey 
nod  an'  beckon  an'  pass  out,  an'  all  de  time  dat  voice 
nebber  stop,  nebber  stop  hollerin'  '  Phairo  !  '  An'  it 's  a 
warnin',  an'  'fore  many  days  ole  Quash  '11  be  buried  in 
de  Red  Sea  o'  de'f,  same  as  dat  ole  time  Phairo  was 
w'en  de  wheels  o'  dem  carts  got  mired,  and  de  drivers 
could  n'  lick  dere  bosses  hard  'nough  to  mek  'em  pull 
froo'." 

"  But  Quash !  Dear  old  uncle  Quash !  You  know  as 
well  as  I  do  that  it  is  the  crickets  that  make  that  noise  ! 
I  heard  them  too,  last  night,  and  I  often  hear  them." 

"An'  doos  yo'  fader  come  a-beckonin'  all  de  time  ?  " 
asked  Quasho,  sarcastically. 

"  No,  but  "  — 

"  Den,  Mis'  Prissy,  my  dear,  you  don'  know  noffin' 
about  it,  an'  you  need  n'  try  ter  teach  yo'  ole  unc'  Quash 
how  ter  suck  eggs,  'cause  he  know  how  long  time  'fore 
you  was  born.  Don'  you  git  mad  now,  Mis'  Prissy, 
will  yo',  honey  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed,  uncle  Quash.  But  you  must  let  Mr. 
Isaac  come  up  and  see  you,  and  give  you  some  medicine, 
and  I  shall  come  again  to-morrow  or  next  day,  and  if 
you  would  be  more  comfortable  you  shall  be  moved  to 


PHAIRO  !  PUAIRO I  PHAIRO  !  446 


my  house,  or  to  your  own  old  room  in  Mr.  Isaac's  house 
as  it  is  now  "  — 

"Nebber  was  berry  fon'  o'  Mis'  Patty  HowlanV' 
muttered  Quash,  discontentedly. 

"  Mrs.  Isaac,  you  ought  to  call  her,"  corrected  Pris- 
cilia,  gently ;  but  the  invalid  had  grown  tired  and  per- 
verse, only  brightening  a  moment  as  his  visitor  bade 
him  good-by  to  say  :  — 

"  Nebber  min'  ole  nigger's  cranky  ways.  Mis'  Prissy, 
my  dear,  dey  '11  soon  be  all  buried  up  'long  o'  him,  an' 
dere 's  one  'quest  I 's  got  to  make  berry  pertikler,  'fore 
dat  time  come." 

^^What  is  it,  Quash?" 

"  I  wants  to  be  berried  right  'crost  mas'r's  two  feet, 
clost  up  so 's  ef  he  felt  kin*  o'  cold  an'  stretched  'em  out 
in  bed,  he 'd  find  ole  nigger's  heart  to  warm  'em  on. 
We  slep'  dat  way  out  in  de  woods  one  night,  an'  I  make 
my  min'  den,  dat 's  de  way  we 'd  lay  down  f er  good  long 
comferbable  sleep  twell  ole  Gab'el's  horn  come  to  call  us 
up  fer  jedgmen'. 

"  Wy,  Mis'  Prissy,  my  dear,  I  did  n'  go  fer  ter  mek 
you  cry  —  s'cuse  me  honey  —  dry  up  dem  pooty  eyes,  or 
I  '11  hab  to  knock  my  ole  head  ag'in  de  floor  at  yo'  lil' 
feet  fer  pardon." 

"  Oh,  uncle  Quash,  uncle  Quash,  I  shall  be  so  lonesome 
—  don't  go  —  dear,  faithful  uncle  Quash,  don't  go  and 
leave  me,  don't !  " 

"  Oh,  Mis'  Prissy,  chile,  dere 's  no  '  halt '  nor  *  stan'  at 
ease  '  in  dis  march.  We 's  got  to  step  along  one  right 
after  t'oder,  an'  de  dark  woods  s wallers  up  one  file  an 
den  de  nex',  an'  den  de  nex',  an'  still  we 's  got  to  march 
w'en  de  cap'n  says  march,  an'  dere 's  no  respec'  o'  per- 
sons neider :  men  an'  women  an'  lil'  chil'en,  de  w'ite 


446   DK  LsBARON  AND  HIS  DAUGHTERS, 


gen'lefolk  an'  de  brack  sarvents,  de  good  an'  de  bad  an' 
de  indipperen',  dey  all  keep  step,  an'  dey  all  get  swal- 
lered  up  in  de  brack  woods ;  an'  w'at  lies  t'oder  side  we 
has  n'  seen,  nor  de  pos'riders  don'  bring  no  news.  Par- 
son Bobbins  t'ink  he  know  all  'bout  it,  but  ole  Quash 
don'  purtend,  no,  nor  don'  keer,  —  mas'r  someweers 
dere,  an'  Quash  '11  fin'  him  out  an'  wait  on  him.  Neb- 
ber  no  more  de'f  to  come  between.  Good-by,  Mis' 
Prissy,  my  dear,  good-by  but  not  fer  long.  Yo'  lilly 
feet  marchin'  along,  an'  de  picaninnies'  an'  all.  Bimeby 
we  '11  all  git  to-gedder  ag'in,  —  an'  dey  nebber  '11  sing 
Phairo !  Phairo !  Phairo !  under  our  winders  dere." 


CHAPTER  XLVIL 


THE  WOMAN  SOLDIER. 

**Here,  a  sheer  hulk,  lies  poor  Tom  Bowline, 
The  darling  of  our  crew  ; 
No  more  he  '11  hear  the  tempest  rollin', 
For  death  has  broached  him  to." 

So  sang  or  muttered  Simeon  Samson,  pacing  up  and 
down  the  brow  of  Cole's  Hill,  just  over  the  bones  of 
those  Pilgrims  who  in  the  first  months  had  been  laid 
to  rest  in  wheat-sown  graves. 

"  Ah  well,  ah  well  —  I  wonder  if  Dawson  is  laid  on 
the  shelf  —  this  fellow  Nelson  seems  forging  ahead  of 
the  rest — I'd  like  to  meet  him  on  the  high  seas  on 
equal  terms  —  well,  well  —  if  Deb  wants  a  farm  I  sup- 
pose she  '11  have  one,  and  I  '11  see  if  a  man  that 's 
ploughed  the  seas  for  twenty  years  can  plough  the  land 
as  well,  and  if  I  can't  —  why,  if  there 's  no  fighting  to 
be  done  there 's  the  merchant  service. 

*  Here,  a  sheer  hulk ' "  — 

The  song  broke  off  abruptly,  for  a  horse  cantering 
down  Middle  Street  halted  close  at  his  side,  and  a 
blithe  voice  demanded :  — 

"  Is  n't  this  Captain  Samson  ?  " 

"  At  your  service,  madam." 

"  Then  I 'm  your  cousin  Deborah  Samson,  or,  if  you 
will,  I 'm  Private  Robert  Shurtliffe,  late  of  the  Conti- 
nental Army,  and  now  discharged  with  a  certificate  of 
good  conduct." 


448  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


"You  are  welcomej  cousin.  I  have  heard  of  you 
from  my  wife,  and  though  you  did  n't  make  out  to  sail 
in  my  ship,  we  are  in  the  same  boat  now,  for  my  occu- 
pation 's  gone  as  well  as  yours.  Peace  is  a  good  thing 
for  peaceable  folks,  but  a  poor  thing  for  fighters  Hke 
you  and  me." 

"  I 'm  thinking  of  being  married,  for  my  part,"  said 
Deborah,  bluntly, 

"  Aye  ?  Well,  then,  for  God's  sake  lay  your  fight- 
ing gear  aside.  Come,  let  me  take  you  off  your  horse 
—  h'm,  I  forgot  your  training,  but  the  petticoats  must 
hamper  you  a  good  deal  in  such  manoeuvres,  don't  they  ?  " 

Deborah,  who  had  flung  herself  off  her  horse  in  a 
very  masculine  fashion,  laughed,  yet  glancing  shrewdly 
at  her  cousin's  face,  frowned  a  little. 

"  You  don't  want  women  stealing  your  trade,  do  you, 
cousin  ?  Well,  I  had  no  man  to  fight  for  me,  as  your 
wife  has,  and  when  I  heard  those  guns  on  Bunker  Hill, 
I  could  n't  stay  idle,  and  there  are  two  or  three  fewer 
enemies  of  American  Independence  in  the  world  than 
there  would  have  been  if  I  had  n't  gone." 

The  captain  turned  his  keen  blue  eyes  upon  the  face 
of  the  speaker,  but  said  nothing,  and  she,  laughing 
loudly,  continued  :  — 

"  You  're  glad  I 'm  not  your  wife,  and  so  am  I, 
cousin.  Two  of  a  trade  seldom  agree,  especially  two 
master- workmen  like  you  and  me,  so  I  '11  forgive  you 
your  thought." 

"  Well,  well !  we  won't  fight  each  other.  Come  into 
the  house  and  see  my  wife,  while  I  put  up  your  horse 
and  bring  in  the  saddle-bags.  You  '11  stay  with  us  for 
a  while,  I  hope." 

"  Over  one  day.    I  was  determined  in  my  own  mind 


THE  WOMAN  SOLDIER.  449 


to  have  a  good  look  at  you  and  a  good  talk,  before  I 
married  and  settled  down.  It  was  knowing  about  you 
that  led  me  to  offer  myself  to  our  country." 

That  evening  a  circle  of  friends  and  neighbors  col- 
lected round  the  fire  in  the  great  kitchen  of  the  house 
on  Middle  Street,  all  intent  to  see  and  hear  something 
of  the  woman  soldier,  whose  fame  had  gone  abroad 
throughout  the  army  ;  the  fame  of  dauntless  courage, 
great  zeal,  quick  comprehension,  and  ready  obedience 
to  orders,  and  a  discretion  so  great  and  so  consistent 
that  her  sex  had  never  been  suspected,  until,  overcome 
by  illness  and  exhaustion,  she  fell  senseless,  and  the 
surgeon  placed  his  hand  upon  her  heart  to  determine 
whether  she  were  alive. 

Many  of  our  friends  were  in  that  circle,  and  as  iu 
most  assemblies  in  old-time  Plymouth,  all  were  either 
kith  or  kin  to  the  rest.  Lydia,  the  daughter  of  the 
house,  was  there  with  William  Goodwin,  her  husband ; 
and  his  mother,  born  Lydia  Le Baron,  and  his  brother, 
Francis  LeBaron  Goodwin,  with  his  new-made  wife, 
Jenny  Bobbins  ;  then  there  was  Lydia's  sister  Priscilla, 
with  Abraham  Hammatt,  her  husband,  and  Margot, 
their  orphaned  sister ;  Henry  Goodwin,  late  captain'^ 
clerk  on  board  the  Independence,  was  near  his  captain, 
as  he  always  was  when  he  might  be ;  and  Isaac  LeBaron, 
with  Martha  Howland  and  one  of  S'uth'ard's  daughters, 
was  there ;  and  Parson  Robbins  had  strolled  along  with 
his  daughter  Jenny,  and  sat  in  the  doorway,  half  protest- 
ing by  his  attitude  and  manner  against  the  encourage- 
ment of  female  soldiery,  but  still,  as  a  student  of  men 
and  manners,  he  could  not  but  listen  while  the  heroine 
in  her  clear  brisk  voice,  went  on :  — 

"  I  was  mustered  into  the  service  at  Worcester,  and 


150     DR.  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS, 


soon  joined  the  army  at  West  Point,  and  was  rated  in 
Captain  Webb*s  company,  Colonel  Shepard's  regiment, 
and  General  Patterson's  brigade.  Here  I  learned  the 
manual,  practiced  the  step,  and  got  my  uniform  :  a  blue 
coat  faced  with  white,  white  waistcoat  and  breeches ; 
half-boots  and  black  stockings  with  leather  garters  under 
the  knee  ;  a  black  stock  made  of  velvet  and  very  barbar 
rously  stiffened  with  leather ;  a  cap  with  a  many-colored 
cockade  on  one  side,  and  a  white  plume  tipped  with 
red  on  the  other,  and  a  white  scarf  tied  around  the 
crown. 

"  Then  I  had  a  French  fusee  and  fcayonet,  a  knapsack, 
cartridge-box,  and  thirty  cartridges,  and  was  ready  for 
the  fray.  Six  weeks  later  it  came,  and  we  had  a  skir- 
mish at  White  Plains,  where  my  left-hand  comrade 
was  shot  dead,  and  I  found  the  smell  of  battle  fii^t 
sickening,  and  then  so  intoxicating  that  I  fought  like  a 
fury.  After  this  we  joined  the  French  forces  from 
Newport,  under  Count  Rochambeau,  and  finally  marched 
south,  passing  through  Philadelphia,  where  the  people 
climbed  on  each  other's  shoulders  to  cheer  us  as  we 
passed,  and  feasted  us  on  the  best  the  city  could  afford. 
It  was  there  that  a  young  lady  fell  in  love  with  Robert 
Shurtliffe,  and  sorely  embarrassed  him  with  her  posies 
and  her  poetry  and  love-billets ;  but  this  pleasant  pas- 
time soon  gave  way  to  fierce  realities,  when  we  came  to 
the  siege  of  Yorktown,  and  for  seven  days  a  continuous 
battle  raged  all  along  the  line,  and  our  poor  fellows, 
cold,  hungry,  half  clothed,  and  half  equipped,  fought 
against  Cornwallis  and  eight  thousand  British  regulars. 
That 's  the  time  George  Washington,  God  bless  him," 
—  and  as  she  spoke  Deborah  rose  straight  and  rigid  to 
her  feet,  and  saluted,  as  if  in  presence  of  the  Com- 


THE  WOMAN  SOLDIER  451 


mander  in  Chief,  —  "  showed  what  was  in  him.   He  and 

Rochambeau  and  de  Grasse  saved  the  country  "  — 
"  Under  God  !  "  interpolated  Doctor  Robbins  sternly, 
"  Yes,  Parson,  under  God  of  course,  but  if  they  had  n't 

been  the  men  they  were,  God's  battle  would  have  been 

lost." 

"  And  what  did  you  do,  Deborah  ?  "  asked  Captain 
Samson  hurriedly,  for  the  parson's  brow  was  ominous. 

"  Oh,  I  did  as  I  was  bid.  The  7th  of  October,  I  was 
one  of  the  party  ordered  to  open  a  trench  within  a 
mile  of  the  enemy's  batteries.  It  was  cold,  but  the  work 
warmed  us,  I  assure  you ;  my  hands  were  soon  blis- 
tered, and  my  back  well-nigh  broke,  but  I  never  shirked 
nor  faltered,  and  after  sunset,  when  we  were  relieved, 
I  could  scarce  stand  on  my  feet.  General  Lincoln,  wh^ 
commanded  our  detachment,  chanced  to  spy  me,  an4 
stopped  to  say :  — 

"  '  This  work 's  too  hard  for  you,  my  lad.  Get  to  your 
tent  and  have  a  sleep  until  noon.' 

"  Three  days  later  I  was  one  of  a  party  detailed  to 
carry  a  redoubt  which  was  enfilading  our  advanced  forces. 
We  were  led  on  by  the  Marquis  de  Lafayette,  and  we 
fell  upon  the  enemy  like  fire  from  heaven  or  the  other 
place  "  — 

A  slight  bustle  near  the  door  told  that  the  parson  had 
taken  his  departure,  but  the  soldier  went  on,  unconscious 
of  her  offense :  — 

"  Oh,  I  tell  you,  friends,  we  have  cause  to  love  the 
French,  and  you  LeBarons  may  be  proud  of  your  an- 
cestry ;  Lafayette  and  the  Baron  de  Viomenil  were  the 
heroife  of  that  splendid  assault,  and  we  who  followed  did 
but  move  with  the  impulse  of  their  fiery  zeal  —  oh,  it  was 
glorious,  it  was  glorious,  that  rush,  —  and  when  the  re* 


452  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 

doubts  were  gained,  and  some  of  our  men,  crazed  with  the 
combat,  would  have  slain  unarmed  prisoners,  the  French- 
men interfered  and  beat  them  back,  showing  themselves 
masters  of  their  own  tempers  and  of  their  soldiers,  even 
in  the  moment  of  bloody  victory. 

Well,  we  got  back  to  Philadelphia,  and  Robert  saw 
his  sweetheart  again,  and  broke  a  sixpence  with  her,  and 
bade  her  a  tender  farewell  till  the  war  should  be  over 
and  he  could  come  back  to  marry  her,  and  then  we  went 
into  winter-quarters  on  the  Hudson.  The  next  June  I 
was  one  of  a  party  of  volunteers  to  protect  the  patriot 
citizens  of  western  Massachusetts  from  the  British  and 
Tories  who  molested  them.  We  had  a  sharp  skirmish, 
and  I  got  two  wounds,  one  in  the  head,  to  which  I  con- 
fessed, and  one  in  the  leg,  which  I  concealed.  Fortu- 
nately, the  first  was  severe  enough  to  send  me  into  the 
hospital,  where  I  contrived  to  secrete  lint  and  ointment 
enough  from  the  surgeon's  tray  to  dress  the  hidden 
wound,  after  myself  extracting  the  ball ;  but  it  was  sorry 
work,  sorry  work,  and  as  I  lay  there  exhausted  and 
fevered  I  thought  a  good  deal  about  my  mother. 

"  But  I  soon  recovered,  and  was  in  more  than  a  dozen 
sharp  fights,  —  did  a  good  deal  of  scouting,  stayed  within 
the  enemy's  lines  to  nurse  a  comrade,  and  after  he  died 
had  a  narrow  squeak  of  it  to  make  my  escape,  —  served 
General  Patterson  as  aid-de-camp  during  the  absence  of 
Major  Haskell,  and  lived  in  the  general's  family  on 
terms  of  intimacy. 

"  After  peace  was  proclaimed  but  not  ratified,  I  got 
leave  to  go  to  Philadelphia  to  visit  kind  although  mis- 
taken friends,  but  before  reaching  them  was  struck  down 
by  a  malignant  fever  and  carried  to  a  hospital.  I  was 
given  up  for  dead,  and  lay  unconscious  for  a  long  time, 


THE  WOMAN  SOLDIER.  453 


but  finally  revived  just  in  time  to  hear  the  soldier  nurses 
quarreling  over  my  clothes,  which  they  were  to  divide. 
That  provoked  me  so  sorely  that  I  moved  my  hand  and 
said  something,  but  what  I  know  not,  for  I  relapsed  at 
once  into  unconsciousness,  and  when  I  awoke  found  my- 
self in  the  apartments  of  Mrs.  Parker,  the  matron  of  the 
hospital,  who  raised  my  head  and  held  a  cup  to  my  lips, 
saying,  — 

"  '  Oh,  you  foolish  girl,  how  came  you  here !  * 
"  Dr.  Binney  was  very  kind  to  me,  and  as  soon  as  I 
could  sit  up,  took  me  home  to  his  own  house,  where  his 
daughters  gave  me  some  clothes  and  marveled  hugely 
at  my  adventures.  Then  I  went  back  to  General  Patter- 
son, who  presented  Deborah  Samson  with  Robert  Shurt- 
liffe's  honorable  discharge,  and  here  I  am.  Cousin 
Samson,  my  throat  is  wondrous  dry.  Have  you  a  mug 
of  cider  at  hand,  and  may  I  step  out  for  a  breath  or  two 
of  fresh  air  ?  It  is  a  long  while  since  I  have  lived  in 
houses." 

"  Lyddy,  come  and  help  me  bring  out  some  cider  and 
something  stronger,  for  our  friends,"  said  Mistress  Sam- 
son, rising  and  nodding  to  her  daughter  Goodwin.  "  It 
seems  to  me,  we  all  need  a  little  something  to  revive 
our  courage  after  our  cousin's  story." 

"  I  wonder  what  sort  of  man  has  ventured  to  ask  her 
to  marry  him  ? "  suggested  William  Goodwin,  who 
liked  to  be  master  in  his  own  house,  and  as  the  company 
filled  their  glasses,  a  significant  smile  went  round. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 


OVER  THE  HILLS  AND  FAR  AWAT^ 

"  And  you  '11  really  go  and  leave  us  all,  little  sister  ? 

"  Yes,  Priscilla,  dearly  as  I  love  you,  I  must  love  my 
husband  better ;  but  oh,  Pris,  I  do  love  you ! "  And 
Margot's  arms  virent  round  her  sister's  neck,  and  her 
bright  flower-face  hid  itself  upon  the  other's  matronly 
kerchief. 

"  And  I  love  my  little  Margot  —  our  father's  pet  and 
darling." 

"  Oh,  Pris,  you  '11  tend  his  grave  —  you  like  to  go  up 
there ;  but  I  don't  dare.  It  seems  —  oh,  I  can't  tell 
how  it  seems ;  but  I  can't  go  up  on  the  hill  even  to  bid 
father's  grave  good-by,  and  that  little  Margaret  that 
died,  and  lies  next  to  mother,  —  it  always  seems  as  if  it 
might  have  been  me.  I  can't  bear  to  see  Margaret 
LeBaron  on  a  gravestone." 

"  Yet  Margaret  Montarnaud  must  some  day  have  a 
grave,"  suggested  Priscilla,  reprovingly. 

"  Oh,  don't !  How  can  you,  Pris,  just  the  last  day 
I 'm  with  you !  " 

And  the  little  thing  began  to  sob  and  cling  like  a 
limpet  to  her  sister's  neck. 

"  My  pet,  do  you  remember  what  our  sister  Betty  said 
to  you  when  she  was  here  at  father's  funeral  1 " 

«  No  —  that  is  —  I  don't  know  "  — 

"  She  tried  to  make  you  see  that  now  you  are  woman 
grown,  and  have  married  "  — 


/ 


OVER  THE  HILLS  AND  FAR  AWAY,  455 


"  Not  yet  a  day  married !  " 

"  Still  you  are  married,  Madame  de  Montarnaud, 
and,  as  Betty  said,  it  hardly  becomes  a  woman  old 
enough  to  be  a  wife  to  cherish  the  follies  of  a  child. 
You  must  learn  to  face  the  hard  things,  and  the  rough 
things,  and  the  painful  things  of  life,  Margaret,  for  they 
will  come  to  you,  as  they  come  to  all  of  us  —  every  one. 
Gh,  sweet  little  sister,  darling  pet,  my  precious  Margot, 
you  know  how  I,  how  all  of  us,  would  shield  you  if  we 
could ;  but  we  cannot,  child,  we  cannot,  —  the  dark 
things  of  life  will  come  to  you  "  — 

"  Philip,  Philip ! "  cried  the  young  wife,  breaking 
from  her  sister's  arms  and  rushing  into  those  of  her  hus- 
band, who,  coming  in  at  the  open  door,  paused  in  amaze- 
ment at  the  Niobean  group  before  him,  for  Priscilla  was 
crying  softly,  even  as  she  exhorted  to  courage. 

"  Oh,  Phil,  Pris  is  saying  I  Ve  got  to  be  unhappy  and 
wretched,  and  see  things  I  don't  want  to,  and  cry  —  I 
don't  want  to,  Phil  —  I  don't  want  to.  And  I  can't  go 
up  on  the  Hill  again  —  I 'm  afraid  to." 

"There,  there,  Mignonne!  there,  there!  Hide  thy 
curly  head  here,  and  close  thine  eyes  tight,  so  as  to  see 
no  —  what  is  it  now  ?  —  no  boo-a-boo." 

And  at  his  queer  pronunciation  of  the  word,  Margot 
lifted  her  head  and  laughed  until  the  tears  yet  upon  her 
cheeks  found  wells  in  the  dimples,  and  one  looked  for  a 
rainbow,  so  brightly  did  the  sun  shine  through  the 
shower. 

"  Oh,  there 's  Mercy  Watson  —  I  must  speak  to  her 
once  more,"  cried  she,  before  the  laugh  was  done,  and 
out  at  the  door  she  sped,  leaving  her  husband  and  sister 
face  to  face. 

"  You  will  be  very  patient  with  her,  Philip  !  She  is 
a  petted  child,  rather  than  a  responsible  woman." 


456  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


"  Fear  nothing,  dear  good  sister.  I  understand  her 
perfectly  —  perfectly.  She  is  not  like  you  or  Madame 
Bobbins,  or  the  others.  She  took  none  of  her  nature 
from  the  respectable  Rock  down  there." 

And  the  Frenchman  bowed  with  a  courteous  wave  of 
his  hat. 

"  She  is  not  at  all  of  New  England ;  oh,  not  at  all ; 
but  she  is  French  of  the  French.  She  loves  beauty,  and 
sunshine,  and  music,  and  flowers,  and  laughter ;  and  the 
other  things,  they  —  ah !  they  pain  her,  they  wound 
her,  as  the  brush  to  scrub  with  would  wound  her  so 
charming  little  rose-leaf  hands.  And  yet,  my  sister,  if 
the  occasion  came,  —  if  she  had  a  baby  in  her  arms,  and 
a  savage  approached,  would  she  drop  it  and  flee  ?  Not 
at  all,  not  at  all !  not  so  quickly  as  that  brave  Amazon 
whose  story  I  hear  from  all  of  you.  That  one  has  her 
courage,  no  doubt,  but  Margot  has  a  finer  courage,  —  the 
courage  of  good  blood,  of  good  birth,  of  honor  and  of 
chivalry,  of  nobility,  —  the  one  is  the  mastiff,  who  flies 
at  the  throat  of  a  house-breaker ;  the  other  is  the  hum- 
ming-bird, that  darts  fearlessly  in  the  face  of  man  or 
woman  if  her  nest  is  threatened.  Ah,  Madame  Pris- 
cilla,  I  know  my  Margot  better  than  you  do,  and  I  am 
well  content ;  yes,  and  she  shall  be  content,  I  do  prom- 
ise you  on  the  faith  of  ^  gentleman,  by  my  mother's 
grave,  by  my  hopes  of  eternity." 

"  Well,  Philip,  if  you  are  content,  and  if  you  will 
make  her  happy,  I  have  no  more  to  say.  It  is  true 
enough  that  she  is  unlike  the  rest  of  us,  and  I  think  our 
father  and  she  were  perhaps  nearer  to  each  other  than  — 
than  —  some  others  ;  but  she  is  very,  very  dear  to  me." 

"  And  to  me,  sister,"  with  which  astonishing  announce- 
ment Monsieur  de  Montarmaud  took  his  sister-in-law  by 


OVER  THE  HILLS  AND  FAR  AWAY.  457 


the  hand  and  lightly  kissed  her  on  each  cheek,  a  cere- 
mony witnessed  by  two  persons  coming  in  at  opposite 
doors. 

"  Here,  here  I  Who 's  kissing  my  wife  ?  "  exclaimed 
Abraham  Hammatt,  from  one  side,  and,  — 

"  Now,  now !  That 's  my  husband,  if  you  please,  Mrs. 
Hammatt,  and  not  yours !  "  cried  Margot,  and  then, 
dancing  up  to  her  brother-in-law,  she  held  up  a  soft 
round  cheek,  saying,  "  And  perhaps,  Aby,  you 'd  better 
kiss  me  a  little,  just  to  make  things  square/' 

"  With  all  the  pleasure  in  life,  my  dear,  and  not  the 
first  time,  either." 

Four-and-twenty  hours  later  a  little  group  of  friends 
stood  on  Cole's  Hill,  watching  a  ship  called  La  Seine 
Blanche,  bound  toward  Bordeaux  from  Plymouth,  make 
her  stately  way  out  of  the  harbor.  On  the  deck  a  slen- 
der girl  clung  to  her  husband's  arm,  and  sobbed,  and 
sobbed,  and  wiped  her  eyes,  and  held  the  handkerchief 
above  her  head,  and  cried  incoherent  good-bys,  and 
wild  words  of  farewell,  that  the  wind  bore  away  to  the 
laughing  and  dimpling  sea  beyond  the  Gurnet,  which 
seemed  to  say,  "  Oh,  she  will  smile  and  laugh  with  me 
ere  long,"  and  on  the  shore  a  grave,  sweet  woman, 
comely  and  young,  yet  steadfast  and  restrained,  stood, 
and  waved  her  handkerchief,  while  the  tears  ran  quietly 
down  her  cheeks  and  fell  upon  the  dust  that  covered 
Katharine  Carver's  head. 

"  There,  they  've  rounded  Beach  Point,  and  are  stand- 
ing out.  Come,  wife,  't  is  ill  luck  to  watch  them  out  of 
sight,"  said  Abraham  Hammatt,  and  Priscilla,  the  sup- 
pressed emotion  of  her  heart  suddenly  surging  over  its 
bounds,  pressed  both  hands  to  her  heart  and  flung  them 
seaward,  crying :  — 


458  DR.  LeBaron  and  his  daughters. 


"  Oh,  God  bless  you !  God  in  heaven  bless  you,  my 
little  sister ! " 

And  that  night  there  were  fresh  flowers  on  the  grave 
of  Lazarus  LeBaron,  laid  there  with  the  whispered 
w<irds :  — 

Margot  says  good-by,  dear ! 


APPENDIX. 


CAPTAIN  SAMSON'S  PETITION  TO  THE  PROVINCIAL 
C0NGRESS.1 

Hallifax  Harbor  on  Board  the  Gard  Ship. 

January,  20th,  1777. 

Gentlemen,  —  I  take  this  Oppertunity  to  Inform  you 
with  my  misfoi-ten  of  being  taken  which  happen^  on  the  25 
of  November  Last,  being  then  6  or  7  Leagues  Distance  to 
the  Southward  of  Cape  Sables  att  4  o'Clock  P.  M.,  fell  in  with 
the  Sloop  of  War  Called  the  Hope  of  16  Guns  upwards  of 
100  Men,  Command  by  George  Dawson,  and  the  Nancy 
Transport  with  16  Guns  &  60  men,  they  being  Bound  from 
this  Port  to  fort  Cumberland  in  ttie  Bay  of  fonday.  I  soon 
came  to  Action  with  the  Hope,  the  Nancy  lying  att  the  Dis- 
tance of  half  a  mile.  But  the  Officer  on  Board  the  Nancy 
Seeing  me  attack  the  Hope  Closely  for  more  than  one  Hour 
Came  up  and  ingage**  me  on  the  Larboard  Quarter  at  the 
Same  time  the  Hope  on  my  Starboard  Beam.  The  Action 
continue*  aBout  3  Glasses,  But  finding  my  Self  over  Mach** 
By  the  two,  my  Riggnin  &  Sales  in  a  Shattard  Condision  8s 
in  a  miserable  Situation  I  thought  most  Prudent  to  Sheare  of 
which  I  Did  But  the  Enemy  out  Sale^  me  came  up  &  after 
making  a  running  Fight  for  Sometime  was  under  the  Dis- 
agreeable Nicsaty  of  Submitting. 

I  had  some  men  kilP  in  the  Engagement,  and  7  wounded, 
2  of  whom  nave  Since  Dye*  with  There  Wounds,  the  Lose  of 
the  Enemy  is  at  presant  unsartain.  the  6  Instant  the  Ship 
that  I  was  a  Board  of  in  the  Bay  of  funday  arriv*  at  this 
Port  &  the  8***  I  was  put  on  Board  this  Ship  with  the  most 
of  my  Crew,  whare  I  met  with  a  number  of  my  Brother 
1  Page  336. 


460   DK  LeBARON  and  HIS  DAUGHTERS. 


Countrymen  that  have  unhapaly  fell  in  to  the  hands  of  our 
Cruel  Enemies. 

We  are  all  in  Number  on  Board  100  and  in  General  in  a 
Deplorable  Situation,  having  Been  robbed  ofiP  most  of  our 
Clothing  By  the  Different  Ships  we  ware  taken  by.  one  of 
my  men  was  Froze  to  Death  the  IS^^'inst  &  there  is  about 
40  more  froze  Some  Badly  4  Sent  to  the  Hospittle  wone  of 
which  So  Badly  froze  tis  thought  he  will  Loos  Both  his  Leggs, 
the  Ship  we  are  a  Board  of  is  ould  open  &  Leaky,  it  is  the 
Enclemency  of  the  Season,  are  short  of  Provisions  and  Nes- 
saray^  of  Life  Shant  think  Strange  if  many  of  us  Should  not 
Survive  until  the  Opning  of  the  Spring  Except  Some  mea- 
thod  Can  be  taken  to  Exchange  prisners  this  matter  I  Beg 
your  Honours  will  take  into  Consideration  and  that  a  Nego- 
siation  may  take  place  as  soon  as  possible,  this  matter  I  refer 
to  a  pertition  we  have  all  Ready  Sent  you  from  this  Ship. 

Gentlemen  I  am  with  Grate  Asteem  your  Most  Obed* 
Humble  Servant  att  Command  Sim*  Samson 

N.  B.  The  Brig^  Independence  is  not  arrived  in  this  port 
as  yet  —  &  I  flatter  myself  she  has  Return^  to  the  State  She 
Belon^  to 

To  this  letter  is  appended  the  following  hint  as  to  the 
action  of  Congress  upon  our  hero's  simple  and  manly  appeal. 

In  the  house  of  Representatives  Feb.  7, 1777. 

Read  and  thereupon  Ordered  that  the  Council  be  desired 
to  take  the  Same  into  Consideration  &  Endeavour  to  procure 
the  Officers  &  Seamen  prisoners  in  the  State  of  New  Hamp- 
shire &  Collect  those  in  this  State  and  send  them  in  a  Flagg 
to  Hallifax  for  the  purpose  of  redeeming  Capt.  Samson 
his  Officers  &  Company  &  as  many  others  now  prisoner^ 
there  as  can  be.  Sent  up  for  Concurrence 

J.  Warren  spkr. 

And  J.  Warren,  Speaker,  was  James  Warren  of  Plymouth, 
late  partner  in  the  firm  of  Goodwin  &  Warren,  Captain 
Samson's  first  owners. 


( 


